


Battle Scars

by riacte



Series: MCC Hermits and Friends [10]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft championship - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blue Bats, Bullying, Crack, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Griangst, Mild Blood, Mild Swearing, Salt, Satire, Underdogs, Wholesome, no beta we die like stan twitt when blue bats won, pogsupremacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riacte/pseuds/riacte
Summary: They are the crafters, the designers, stuck in 3-H, in the "H as in the Hermit" class. Discriminated and bullied by all those above them just because they're bad at sports. Everybody ignores, underestimates, and laughs at them. They are easy targets, the weaklings, the jokes of this damned school.Until four people get sick of it all.Minecraft Championship never saw this coming.-A dramatic retelling of the MCC9 Blue Bats' legendary victory in fanfiction form.-Current arc: MCC8
Relationships: Everyone & Everyone, No Romantic Relationship(s), falsesymmetry & fruitberries & hbomb94 & rendog, mcc9 blue bats - Relationship
Series: MCC Hermits and Friends [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014315
Comments: 394
Kudos: 349





	1. Hero to Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is AU, none of this is meant to be realistic, please don’t show it to CCs, thank you.

“Mumbo! How did your test go?”

Mambo sighed and rubbed his nose, messy black hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. “You know how it is, False. I’m terrible at sports. I’m pretty sure I failed.”

“Don’t say that!” False clapped Mumbo’s back. “You’ll be fine!” she said in what she hoped was an encouraging way.

“I’m so gonna get into 3-H next year,” Mumbo muttered. “Being good at academics really doesn’t mean a single thing in this school…”

False gulped, her heart sinking upon the mention of the infamous 3-H. In a school where sports and combat mattered the most, those who were bad at it would be sent to class 3-H in their third year. All the delinquents and rule-breakers would be sent there too. They would be forced to study in a tiny shack away from everyone in the main campus. False heard there was no air conditioning, and she knew the shack was situated on top of a hill so it would take an extra thirty minutes to walk up there. Not to mention these 3-H students were at the bottom of the school’s social hierarchy, and would be bullied and discriminated against by everyone. According to their principal, Principal Stanley “Stan” Twitt, who had rather… questionable morals, 3-H was meant to encourage the students to work hard so they wouldn’t suffer in the 3-H “H as in Hermit” class. 

False and Mumbo were friends before they got into this school, and False had always known Mumbo as a genius computer student with a passion for filming. She never saw him as “weak” or “bad at sports”, because flaws didn’t define a person. But now this stupid school with its stupid principal was forcing False’s friends to believe they were worthless. False clenched her fist-

“You’ll definitely be fine though, Falsie.” Mumbo gave her a weak grin. “Maybe you’ll even get into 3-A. You’re the best PvPer out of all of us.”

The duo hurried to the cafeteria where the rest of their friends were waiting for them. A familiar voice shouted out, “Over here!”

“Hey Iskall, hey Stress.” False nodded towards her friends, and she set down her lunch tray. “Where’s Ren?”

Iskall rolled his eyes. “No idea. Maybe he got into trouble for flirting with girls again. Who knows with him,” he said casually.

“Iskall!” Stress glared at him. “How can you sound so nonchalant?” she demanded. 

“Well, I mean, Ren always accidentally gets into trouble,” Iskall replied with a shrug. “Mumbo, are you sitting with us or are you going with that Brian friend of yours?”

“Oh, uhh, hi.” Mumbo’s eyes scanned the cafeteria nervously. “Yeah, I’ll be having lunch with him… he’s a little clingy nowadays. By the way, his name’s Grian.”

“Oh. _Sure,_ ” Iskall said in a way that all his friends knew he wasn’t going to remember Grian’s name. “Good job, Mumbo. Abandoning us for this random blond guy. How did your bromance begin again? On a _slide_?”

Mumbo’s cheeks flushed. “I know it sounds weird but that’s actually what happened, mate. Slides are really cool, you know.” Mumbo’s eyes darted to the left and to the right. 

Iskall laughed and waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah whatever. Bye, Mumbo. Have fun with Bryon.”

“ _His name is Grian,_ ” Mumbo muttered under his breath, but didn’t protest further since he knew Iskall wouldn’t listen to him.

“You’re still walking home with us, right Mumbo?” False called as Mumbo walked away.

“Yeah! If I’m not dead by the time school ends!”

The three of them ate in silence. Next to their table were their friends Scar and Cub, who were enthusiastically discussing rockets and spaceship designs. False knew Iskall, Stress, Ren, Scar, Cub, and some of their other friends Python and Wels were in the same class in their first year, and hence they formed a close bond. False was glad she and Mumbo were integrated into their tight knit circle. Their group of designers, crafters, art kids, science kids, and prospective architects, engineers, movie directors, music producers all stuck together. If no one was going to appreciate their creativity and drive, they were going to do it themselves. 

Footsteps pattered behind them and a panting Ren came into view. “Sorry dudes, just had a meeting with a teacher.” False instantly noticed that Ren looked uncharacteristically somber, and she knew her friends had picked it up as well.

“Ahh… I see,” Stress said, keeping her tone neutral to avoid upsetting Ren.

Ren slid into his seat. “Well. I was just told I would be getting into 3-H.” He laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. 

False gripped her fork. “What? We haven’t even had finals yet! It’s too early to decide—“

Ren shot her a withered look. “Yeah. About that. Apparently I did so badly in the previous tests and exams that even if I ace the finals, I’ll be dropped down to 3-H anyway.”

“Oh.”

False and Iskall, knowing they were the best in PvP among the four, wisely decided to shut up.

“Well… it’s not all bad! At least you can stop worrying about sports and work on something else!” Stress attempted to comfort him. “S-sorry if that sounded patronising… to be honest, I feel like I’m going to be demoted to 3-H as well.”

“I sincerely hope you don’t,” Ren said.

“At least we’ll have each other if I’m in 3-H.” Stress tried to smile. “That’s the silver lining!”

“Come on, you know we’ll still be friends even if some of us get into 3-H!” Iskall patted Ren and Stress’ shoulders. 

“Yeah! We won’t be converted by those egotistical PvPers and their unfair systems, I promise you all!” False chimed in. 

This time, Ren’s small smile looked genuine. “Yeah, thank you. I trust you guys. Nothing can separate us.”

* * *

When False saw Ren next morning, he looked like he had spent the rest of the night crying. He was clearly trying to hide it though, so False wouldn’t bring it up.

“Hi, neighbour.” 

“Morning, Ren.”

They lived pretty close to each other, so technically False knew Ren before she met Mumbo, but they didn’t really interact until they got into the same school. Getting close to someone who walked with you to school every day for two years was pretty much inevitable. They would meet at the same tree every day, at the same time, without fail. Occasionally, False would munch on bananas to give her that extra boost of energy before school (bananas were her favourite food, partly because Mumbo made a fool of himself by screaming “BANANAS! BANANAS!” at the wrong time. No, False would not elaborate.)

“Mumbo and I are gonna work on a filming project today. He’s going to bring his expensive camera.”

“Mmhmm.” False was busy eating a banana. “Sounds cool.”

“You doing anything, Falsie?”

“I’m hopefully gonna finish one of my building designs today.” 

Designing. That was what brought all of them together. Their love for the arts and the science separated them from their classmates who were only concerned about attacking and reflexes and wrestling. If False remembered correctly, Mumbo’s new best friend Grian was extremely talented at designing buildings and had even won awards before. (Mumbo had often said he was “shit” at designing buildings and was much better at designing machines. Funny how he and Grian instantly became best buddies.)

The two were soon joined by Iskall, Stress, and Mumbo, who all lived in the same area. The five fell into their usual routine of bantering. Mumbo took out his precious camera and he and Ren instantly started fanboying over it. 

“This camera costs a _fortune_ ,” Mumbo told everyone excitedly. “I begged my parents for months to get me this for my birthday… and I had to do all the chores for three months to show that I really wanted this camera…”

“Now just don’t be a spoon and drop it,” Iskall laughed. 

“Aww, don’t jinx it!” Stress pinched Iskall’s arm. 

“I’ll probably cry if someone steals this or something.” Mumbo carefully put his camera away. He rubbed his hands together. “Argh, my palms are getting sweaty.”

“Yeah, I’m also sweating in places where I’m not supposed to be sweating!” Ren giggled. 

False snuck a look at Ren. He looked a lot happier now, and she was glad his filming project with Mumbo raised his spirits. 

False knew it sounded cheesy, but so long they had their friends, False was sure they would be alright.

* * *

During P.E., False and Cub quietly watched their classmates spar. There was one fight in the middle of the gym that attracted everyone’s attention, and False squinted at the two figures. “That’s Techno, right?”

Technoblade, the Blood God. Everyone feared him. His signature pink braid whipped back and forth as he pounced and attacked his opponent, which was some guy with lime green hair that False could never remember the name of. 

“Who’s the other guy? Fruitberries?” False asked.

Cub chortled. “Wrong again. That’s Dream. False, how come you always mix these two up?”

“It’s not my fault they look similar,” False replied defensively. 

Dream was the most popular student in their school, and one of the best PvPers. He and his friends called themselves “The Dream Team” (False thought that was a terrible name. Cub agreed). Along with two other students, Pete and Fruitberries, they were known as the “Green Gods” due to their legendary skills and similar green hair. False knew how Pete looked like, and she knew how Fruit looked like— she just kept on mistaking Dream for Fruit. All her friends thought it was hilarious that she couldn’t remember what the massively popular Dream looked like but firmly remembered least popular Green God. And apparently, others always mistook Fruit for Dream. Only False made the mistake the other way round.

“You’re such a Fruitberries stan,” Iskall had teased her. “He’s the only Green God who matters to you. Dream who?”

False had replied with, “I haven’t ever spoken to him.”

Everybody knew Dream would be the leader of the student council next year. No one could contend with him. Not even Technoblade. 

“That’s Fruit over there.” Cub nudged False and pointed at two figures sparring with wooden swords. One was Fruit, and the other was a brunet that False didn’t really know. Fruit struck the other guy and he yelled, “Man! Fruit, you’re _insane!_ ”

“Whoa, geez, that guy has a loud voice,” Cub muttered. False hummed in agreement. 

Somebody suddenly darted behind Cub and False. It was Mumbo. “Hide me for a bit, will you? I think I just saw those 2-A goons that I may or may not have angered.”

“Wait wait _wait._ ” False held up a hand. “Mumbo, what did you do?” Sure, Mumbo was mildly annoying in the “little brother” way, but False couldn’t see Mumbo making any real enemies. He was too nice and… mild. 

Mumbo grinned sheepishly. “Yesterday, these PvPers were laughing at how badly I did on my test. I wasn’t having any of it so I told them something about brains over brawn. And apparently that hurt their feelings because they failed their last math test and… not to brag but I did pretty great. So they probably hate my guts now. And they sort things out using their fists (like a bunch of barbarians) sooo….” Mumbo chuckled. “I guess I’m in danger?”

“Good thing you stood up to them,” Cub said.

Mumbo snorted. “Yeah, I don't regret that one bit. Hey False, don’t look so worried! I know how to keep myself safe.”

“Yeah…” False stared down at her hands, which were littered in scars from her previous battles. “You’re a smart guy, Mumbo,” she said half-sarcastically, half-sincerely. “But can’t help but feel a little… concerned since those 2-A kids are no joke.”

“I knowww!” Mumbo groaned. “But I can’t do anything about it… I mean, I definitely won’t apologise for hurting their fragile egos.”

“Mumbo, you can always make a taser and use it for self-defence,” Cub suggested idly.

“Woah woah. Let’s not give him any ideas—“

“Mate, I’ll be _expelled_ by Stan Twitt!” Mumbo exclaimed. “Imagine the headlines: a student of MCYT electrifies poor innocent souls for fun! #MumboJumboIsOverParty will trend everywhere!”

“The only ‘poor innocent souls’ here are the 3-H people, to be frank,” False muttered. 

Mumbo deflated, and False instantly regretted bringing up 3-H. “To be honest, I don’t think I can make it to 3-G,” Mumbo muttered. “I’ll definitely be dropped to 3-H. Har har. Guess I’ll die.”

Cub shifted uncomfortably. “Uhh… speaking of 3-H, I know several people have already gotten notices that they would be in 3-H next year.”

Ah. That wasn’t news to False. “Ren?”

“Yeah, him and Scar,” Cub sighed. False’s heart was crushed. Scar was possibly the most cheerful and purest soul she knew— would being in 3-H break him? But at least now she knew Scar and Ren had each other. 

“You know… I would tell Ren to take care of Scar but I don’t think there’s the need…” Cub awkwardly laughed. False’s blood froze. _No. This isn’t happening again._

“I think I’ll probably be in 3-H as well,” Cub confessed.

“B-but, you’re good at shooting stuff! Didn’t you ace that last test—“

Cub laughed. “Yeah, I did, but does that mean anything? When I can barely swing a sword or run fast enough?”

“Like… I’ve been comparing my scores to some of my classmates. You know Pearl? I’m worse than her, and she just got told that she has a high risk of falling to 3-H. If Pearl can’t escape from 3-H, how can I?”

False was silent. In two days, she’d seen most of her friends worrying about getting in 3-H. Scratch that, _all_ of her friends except Iskall were certain they were going to be in 3-H. All of her talented, kind friends were suddenly doubting their worth and thinking the world was ending. Because of some stupid policy Stan Twitt had implemented.

… That being said, did False really have the right to say that? Unlike all of them, she faced no danger of being dropped down to 3-H. They would probably think she was pitying them, and that was the last thing False wanted. 

Boisterous whoops and cheers interrupted False’s train of thought, and the three of them spun to see Dream and his friends jumping up and down in excitement. Apparently he had just beat Technoblade. All of the PvPers had gigantic smiles on their face, even Techno, who had lost. False watched as Dream extended a hand to Techno and helped him up. 

… It was funny, wasn’t it? The skilled PvPers would be praised and adored by all no matter what they did. But the designers, the crafters, False’s friends, were struggling to even be accepted in this society. Despite their wide variety of talents and how much hard work they put in. It was supremely unfair.

They were at the bottom of the unnecessary social hierarchy Stan Twitt created. And False couldn’t wait for the day when they would overthrow it. 

* * *

During lunch break, False took a stroll around the campus. Maybe she could find a quiet place to sit down and work on her building designs. But that idea was disrupted when she heard a scream. A _familiar_ scream.

Mumbo.

False’s stomach churned and she dashed towards the origin of the scream. She remembered what Mumbo had said about angering some 2-A kids— oh no oh _no_ what if they were getting revenge—

False found three beefy kids standing in the small alleyway between two buildings. On the floor was a shaking Mumbo, his face bruised and bleeding. Anger roared in False’s veins. 

“Stop this right now!” False demanded, hands balling up in fists. The three bullies turned to look at her.

“Aww, how cute, someone’s coming to save you,” one of them cooed in a nauseating voice. “Make one move and I’ll smash his precious baby camera to pieces!”

It felt like someone poured a bucket of ice over False’s heart. She spied the camera in their hands, and automatically froze. They knew how to hurt Mumbo the most, and how to make her stop—

“Give it back,” Mumbo choked out savagely, blood dripping from his lip. He stumbled to his feet. Despite being hurt, and having his camera taken from him, Mumbo was still fighting with all he got. “Give it back, you monsters!”

“Shut up, neeerd!”

An arm swung towards Mumbo, and False acted on instinct. She pounced and intercepted the fist. It hurt a little, but pain didn’t matter at the moment. 

“Give us the camera **_or perish_** ,” False stated coolly, her icy tone a sharp contrast to the fire raging in her. 

“Oh yeah?” The bully smirked. He raised the camera. “Whatcha gonna do if I—“

False’s eyes bulged. She knew exactly what was going to happen. 

The camera soared through the air and False leapt without hesitation, arms outstretched. She painfully thudded on the ground, and she was pretty sure she’d scratched and bruised herself, but the camera was safely in her hands. She sighed in relief. That was the only thing that mattered. 

Someone was screaming. Was it Mumbo? Or was it her? She spun to see Mumbo on the floor again, hands in front of his face in a weak attempt to defend himself—

And suddenly it wasn’t just Mumbo. She saw her friends, with despaired faces, helpless against the harsh rules of this school—

Pain throbbed from her wounds, but the true pain originated from somewhere else.

So False snapped.

* * *

… 

“ _False! False!”_

Punch. Stab. A sickening crunch.

_“Iskall! I-“_

Hot liquid dripped down her face. Something slammed into her skull and her head spun, but she continued. Physical pain wouldn’t stop her.

_They hurt Mumbo. They hurt my friends._

This wasn’t retaliation. Oh no, oh no, _oh no._

This was to protect other people. She gritted her teeth.

 ** _Don’t_**.

A swing of her fist.

 ** _Hurt_**.

Kick.

**_My._ **

Her heel crushed on someone’s foot. They howled. She felt a hot flare of satisfaction. 

**_FRIENDS!_ **

_“False! FALSE!”_

Someone tugged on her shirt. False nearly whacked them in the head, but stopped when she recognised the person. 

“Mumbo!” False exclaimed, her expression changing in a split second. All bloodlust vanished from her eyes as she grabbed Mumbo’s shoulders. “Oh my goodness, did they hurt you after that? Is your camera okay—“

Then she saw Mumbo’s expression. It was one of fear.

“Y-you’re bleeding, Falsie.” 

“I don’t care,” False told him honestly. 

“Umm, guys, bad news,” came Iskall’s voice. Wait, when did Iskall appear? False couldn’t recall. Her brain was fuzzy and her vision was still tinged with red.

A shadow loomed over all of them, and False swallowed.

Their principal, Stan Twitt, looked like an angry strawberry, except False actually liked strawberries. “Hurting my UwU cishet white boy babies?” they screeched. “YOU’RE ABOUT TO GET CANCELLED!” 

“Oh no.”

“Yeah, oh no.”

* * *

False, Mumbo, and Iskall walked out of Stan Twitt’s office (which wasn’t much of an office anyway. It was just a room plastered with posters of popular PvPers and other weird pictures.) All of them were seething, in particular False and Iskall. 

“Sorry I got you guys involved,” Mumbo muttered. “I- you guys don’t deserve this.”

“Oh shut up, Mumbo,” Iskall growled. “We crafters stick together.”

Apparently Iskall had appeared while False was fighting the three bullies. (She had practically single-handedly defeated three 2-A PvPers, which would probably move her up from 2-B to 3-A if she did it with other circumstances.)

“Those 2-A kids are at fault,” False insisted. She shook her head, still in disbelief at Stan Twitt’s judgement. “They attacked first. We attacked back for self defence.”

“Yeah, but who are they gonna listen to?” Mumbo sighed. “The UwU popular kids or the loners that are gonna drop down to 3-H?”

“Screw Stan Twitt’s system. I want to blow this place up.”

“Yeah, that’s what Grian said.”

A pause. “Huh. I think I’m liking this Grian guy now.”

False fiddled with the bandages on her arm. The fire inside her hadn’t died down one bit, but as of now, she was powerless. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to strike back. “So. Who’s going to tell our friends we’re all in 3-H now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: No romantic relationships here! I don’t ship the CCs. 
> 
> Hi! Ever since H said he recommends Assassination Classroom, I can’t help but connect AssClass to MCC9 Blue Bats. The found family dynamics, the underdogs victory, a bunch of underestimated people honing their special skills and faithfully sticking to each other... if you love the Bats, you’ll definitely love Assassination Classroom.
> 
> So yeah, this is inspired by AssClass. I know I said this is about the Bats but it’s going to be hermit centric. I’ll include other MCC builders too, but they won’t be in the same class as the hermits (since I want to make that H as in Hermit joke). 
> 
> There has to be villains in this story, so I took inspiration from what happened irl... but I don’t mean any offence to anybody that is portrayed as a “villain” here. We just need someone to pose as obstacles to our heroes lmao.
> 
> The name “Battle Scars” comes from the song by Paradise Fears. It’s a really sweet song that I think really shows the dynamic between the Bats. (I also listened to it on repeat while talking about this fic to @ivi-prism lol). 
> 
> Oh yeah, special thanks to Ivi for helping out with the fic and the ideas! To be honest, I dunno if I have the energy/ time to finish this, but I’ll do what I can when I have the inspiration lol. 
> 
> Blue Bats Supremacy :DD


	2. Crafters

It was the first day of the new school year. Months had passed since the Camera Incident (as they called it), but the impacts were long lasting. False touched her cheek and felt the scar there— she had gotten it from the fight. “Now my face’s not symmetrical,” she had joked. “I’m False Symmetry.”

“Very funny, False,” Iskall had deadpanned. Stress and Ren were laughing hysterically. False loved the duality of her friends.

Just as always, False and Ren met up at their usual spot and set off for school. Iskall, Stress, and Mumbo joined them like they always did. But today, they couldn’t pretend everything was normal. In fact, they would have to get used to the _new_ normal that they were 3-H students now. 

Many of False’s old friends from 2-B had stopped contacting her after the Camera Incident. Granted, she didn’t have a lot of friends outside the crafters’ circle, but oh well. Most of the main campus students were reluctant to even interact with the hermits in fear they would get bullied as well. As Cub had put it, it was “kill or be killed”. If you were seen with a weakling, you would be deemed weak as well. And in such a highly competitive environment, being a “weakling” was totally unideal.

To be frank, False would’ve _despised_ being in 3-H if it wasn’t for her friends. She was a good student, never broke any school rules, and was decent at PvP. If only False was a little more sociable, a little better at fighting, she could be part of the popular kids’ circle. Her only “fault” was standing up for a bullied friend. False and Iskall still thought it was unfair for Stan Twitt to punish them by sending them to 3-H, but arguing with Stan Twitt was impossible. It wasn’t because they were the principal, it was because they were so ignorant and stubborn that they refused to listen to anyone who didn’t share their opinions. 

Scar and Cub soon joined them. Scar in particular seemed the least saddened by being in 3-H. In fact, he looked pretty excited. He explained it was because he could be closer to nature and gain more inspiration for his building designs. Considering the 3-H classroom was on top of a hill, False supposed Scar was right.

But even Scar’s smile slid off when the crafters arrived at the main campus, with its imposing cobblestone towers and awful colour palettes. (Okay, maybe Scar was just horrified by how terrible their school looked, and he wasn’t feeling sad about being in 3-H.) They all agreed the main campus was the ugliest thing on earth, but it was _somehow_ a symbol of raw power and prestige. And now they would get none of that. Several main campus students were loitering at the crudely-fashioned iron gates, sneering at the crafters.

“Awww look, it’s the hermits. Thank goodness we’re not them!”

“Yeah, their lives must suck. Can’t imagine walking up the hill just to study in some worn down hut.”

“They kinda deserve it though… like dude, what do you mean they can’t speed run? That’s a basic ability.”

Offended, Iskall looked like he was about to retaliate, but Stress placed a hand on his arm. “They’re not worth it, luv. Don’t waste your energy on those geezers.”

“To be honest, what’s speed running? I only know Naruto running. And that’s because I stan Etho.”

“Oh look, it’s Grian!” Mumbo pointed out. They all followed his gaze to see the short blond talking with some main campus students. False was a little surprised that Grian, another hermit, was still on speaking terms with the main campus students, but she’d heard Grian was charismatic. Or maybe he just had good friends. False recognised one of Grian’s friends as Pearl, whom she had never talked to but quite liked.

“Grian, ask us if you need anything, okay?”

“This 3-H thing won’t change anything. We’ll always have each other’s backs.”

“Yeah… and to be fair, we’re just in 3-G. We’re not that far away from being dropped down to 3-H. So, 3-GH solidarity!”

“Thanks, guys!” Grian spied Mumbo, and waved at him. “Ahh, I think I’ve got to go now. See you later, Jimmy, Martyn, Pearl!”

“See ya, Grian!”

False was amazed by how Grian could still maintain his ties. Then again, he was talking to 3-G students. 3-G were the second lowest in the social hierarchy, just slightly higher than 3-H. Maybe Grian’s friend was right. Maybe 3-GH solidarity did exist. 

From what she’d heard from Mumbo, Grian was sent to 3-H due to a combination of his below average PvP skills and being too good at designing buildings. Apparently Stan Twitt thought Grian’s amazing designs (seriously, she heard he was part of a business called Wynncraft) were a threat to the popularity of the PvPers and hence threw him to 3-H. Which was possibly the smartest thing Stan Twitt had ever done. Forcing creative people to study with creative people? Man, what a way to stop Grian’s ever-growing influence!

“Hey guys,” Grian greeted. False wasn’t close with him; she just knew him through Mumbo, nonetheless she politely smiled at him. Other than Mumbo, Grian had also grown closer to Iskall and Scar. Iskall because of Mumbo as a mutual friend, and Scar because of their love for architecture, fantasy, and cats. 

They ignored the jeering from the main campus students and walked up the hill. A few of them, particularly those who weren’t morning people, were pretty exhausted, so False passed out bananas for them to replenish their energy. (“False, do you just casually bring bunches of bananas to school?” “Yeah, I do. Don’t ask why.” “Ooooh, I can think of _something_ for sure-“ “Ren. Shut up.” “Yes ma’am.”)

The 3-H classroom was in a worse shape than False had thought. Half of the roof was gone, the wood was damp and rotting, not to mention there were mushrooms and mycelium growing everywhere. False wasn’t even sure if the classroom had decent lighting.

“Well, this sure is a charming place,” Grian said, crossing his arms.

“Absolutely,” Scar chimed in. “With the second ugliest roof design I’ve ever seen and mycelium encroaching on the grass.”

“No, Scar, I mean it when I said it was charming. Look at how cute the mushrooms are! I’m going to name this one Sally!”

Everybody stared at Grian, not sure if he was trolling or not. Grian skipped along the path, acting like he was innocently oblivious. Mumbo gave False a look that said “ _this is just normal Grian_.”

They entered to find one of False and Mumbo’s old friends, Xisuma, wiping the windows. “Morning X!” False said.

“Mornin’ guys.”

Xisuma was the class representative during his first year. False and Mumbo, who were in the same class as Xisuma, enjoyed his leadership and his eagerness to help his peers. Xisuma was enthusiastic about animals and researched ways to create high-tech armour inspired by certain animals such as the turtle and the bee. Xisuma was also a mysterious character who seemed to have a lot of connections, both inside and outside school.

Soon, more students entered the room, including Etho, who used to be one of the school’s most popular students (that was obviously before PvP started to become relevant.) A guy with a prosthetic arm walked in and Ren instantly died. “I think that’s Docm77! He looks so hot, Falsie! I can’t believe we’re in the same class!”

It took False all of her willpower to resist rolling her eyes at Ren. He was such a huge Doc fanboy.

False scanned the classroom, and to her surprise, many of her classmates used to be popular crafters in this school. Of course there was Etho, a famous pioneer. False didn’t know anyone who wasn’t an Etho fanboy/girl/anything in between. But there were also Doc, Bdubs, Beef, who were members of the Mindcrack gang. Mindcrack was immensely popular in the first months of their first year, but then it sort of dissolved. They still had their loyal fans, and False had to admit she was a little starstruck. 

False thought about how Grian was sent to 3-H because he was too good. Was this that the case for these influential people? Were they taking attention away from the PvPers? Was this another of Stan Twitt’s devious plans?

Soon, all of the hermits had arrived. False vaguely knew them as the art and science kids. Chatter and excitement from meeting their friends died down and they stared at their desks. It was impossible to forget that everybody hated them now. Isolated from everyone else, they knew they would be seen as laughing stocks. Even the most joyous souls had a hard time remaining optimistic. Nobody knew who their homeroom was, but Xisuma told them he heard it was going to be a new teacher. 

“That’s… good, isn’t it?” A student named Impulse had asked. “Since they won’t be like, biased.”

“You never know with Stan Twitt’s influence,” his friend Tango replied darkly. 

“You know, there’s a rumour that Stan Twitt invited one of their cousins to teach here this year,” Cub remarked. “It’s someone called Cherry Twitt, if I recall correctly.”

Five minutes before the bell rang, a blond man strode into the classroom. “Good morning everyone!” He greeted the class warmly. “I’m your homeroom Scott Major, but you can just call me Scott. Nice to meet you guys!”

The hermits started to mutter among themselves. This Scott guy seemed to be too happy to be the teacher of the worst class in the school. They didn’t trust him yet, but they would be polite to Scott since he was nice to them. So when Scott asked for people who wanted to be the class representatives, hands shot up practically instantly. They could’ve easily ignored Scott and went on with their lives (new teachers didn’t have any influence at all), but Scott respected them, which was rare in their school. 

“C’mon False, you should run.” False spun to look at Cub. False grinned awkwardly.

“I _would_ , but I feel like… I’m not going to be the best representative. Cause my reason for getting here is different from everyone else’s.” Cub nodded, understanding.

A quick vote later, which was totally not hijacked by Mumbo and Grian suggesting they build an AI to choose for them, Scar and Bdubs became the class representatives. Scar smiled nervously, pink dotting his cheeks, while Bdubs looked like he was born to do this.

“Thank you for placing your trust in me! I’ll do my best for all the hermits here.”

“By the way, are we really calling ourselves hermits?” Grian called out. “Socially awkward loners that everyone ignores? Sorry for interrupting, by the way.”

Xisuma looked up. “The “hermit” label isn’t supposed to be derogatory. You’re Grian, right? The famous future architect.”

“I- yeah,” Grian spluttered out, a little surprised. “And you’re uh, Ex-eye-zooma-void?”

Everybody chuckled, but Xisuma made no move to correct Grian. “You may call me that, Gr-ee-yan. But my focus is that Stan Twitt didn’t come up with the “hermit” label. The school didn’t come up with it.”

“Then… why are we called the “H as in Hermit” class?” Cub asked. 

“One 3-H student came up with it long ago. He wanted something to identify himself as, and he chose a hermit. The name stuck and the rest of the class adopted it too,” Xisuma explained. “Hermit... it’s supposed to mean that we’re separated from the main campus, on both tangible and intangible levels. But a class of hermits? A class of people who are abandoned by everyone else? They stick together. They grow stronger together. 3-H isn’t just hermits, it’s a _community_ of hermits. And I know this because I actually know the hermit who started all of this.”

“Well… that doesn’t sound that bad.”

“... Maybe I’ll be proud of being called a hermit.”

“A community of hermits. I like that,” Scott said. “I know… that this school isn’t kind to you. Scratch that, the system is unfair, unjust, and punishes the so-called-weak.”

The hermits gasped, surprised by how vocal Scott was.

“Just don’t tell that to the main campus people,” Scott added hurriedly, and flashed the hermits a sheepish smile. “I don’t want to be fired, after all.”

“Sure thing.”

“Yeah, you’re a cool teacher.”

Scar stroked his chin and he looked like he was in deep thought. “So, guys, I’m thinking… we’re hermits here, but not exactly by choice. But there is one thing I think we all have in common, and it’s something we all choose to do.”

“We create,” somebody called from the back.

“Exactly! Thank you.” Scar stood up. His green eyes scanned the room and he made eye contact with each student. “We’re hermits. But we’re also crafters. Whether it’s architecture, or machines, or paintings, or music, we craft. We’re… _Hermitcrafters_.”

“Hermitcrafters!” Bdubs exclaimed. “I like that! Hermits for short. Do we all agree?”

They all nodded. “So we’re taking this label that has been imposed on us, which was originally started by a 3-H student, and making it our own? Sign me the heck up!” Ren cheered. Several other hermits also whooped and clapped. Their morale was definitely boosted compared to when class hadn’t started yet.

“We’re Hermitcrafters,” Scar declared. “H as in Hermit? Nah, we’re H as in Hermit _craft_ now. By the way, Mr. Major,” Scar spun to their teacher, “may I bring my pet cat Jellie to school? She’s… very important to me. She helped me through the hardest time of my life, and she’s a great source of comfort—“

Scott laughed. “Sure, Scar! I’ll love to meet Jellie.”

“Thank you! You’re the best teacher ever!”

“Come on Scar, you don’t need to talk about your whole life story just to ask if you can bring your cat to class!” Iskall burst out, chuckling. 

“H-hey!” Scar was blushing again. “I thought maybe an explanation was needed—“

False watched as her friends bantered like they always did. Despite being in 3-H (the H stood for Hermitcraft, by the way), they were all oddly enough, having a good time. Their teacher Scott appeared to be friendly enough. And none of her peers seemed to be as egotistic and as violent as the PvPers she knew from the main campus. False had a feeling they would all be happy here, despite how the rest of the world treated them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I’m back. How many hours has it been? Eight?
> 
> Anyways I’m writing as much as I can so I can take advantage of this ~inspiration~ lol. So sorry for any mistakes or messiness.
> 
> I know Scott is younger than most (if not all?) of the hermits, but this is an AU shhhh. All the other MCC builders/ players that people look down on are in 3-G, which is just marginally better than 3-H. 
> 
> ALSO YES REN CALLED DOC HOT. You don’t know want to know what other stuff Ren’s said about him. 
> 
> (If you thought the last chapter was salty, there’s this one lol. I didn’t intend for it to be salty, but I guess my true feelings just spill out lol :P)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D


	3. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fruitberries becomes the hermits’ patron saint, Cleo stops the Turf War from happening with one sentence, Scott lets the hermits go feral, everyone has a GoodTime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say I apologise for the salt... but to be honest, I kinda enjoy being salty lmao. I feel bad for deceiving y’all with the dramatic and edgy opening chapter.

_And it's a long way forward, so trust in me_

_I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me._

* * *

  
It was time for the first whole school assembly. Scott led the class down their classroom on the hill. Once again, False looked around to see if her classmates were doing alright. Ren had hitched a hike and Doc was carrying him on his shoulders. These two seemed to be enthusiastically discussing something. False didn’t want to disturb them. 

The gigantic main campus came into view, and all of the hermits and Scott shivered. Partly because the buildings inspired fear, but mostly because the campus was so ugly that every cell of theirs were recoiling. 

“How come our tiny, broken classroom looks way better than this?” Mumbo exclaimed incredulously. He pointed at a wall. “Why cobble here? Smooth stone looks way better.”

“This is what they get for chasing all the creative people away from the main campus,” Iskall idly commented. 

“I think our classroom has a lot of potential _because_ it’s broken,” Scott said. “You guys can change it and modify it however you want. You can’t do anything about these disgusting cobblestone towers here.”

Grian started shaking Mumbo’s shoulders in excitement. “Wooo! I can’t believe we’ll be working on an actual building!”

Because they were class 3-H, they had to line up in the hall first and wait for everyone to come in. One of the Green Gods, Pete, took 3-H‘s attendance. (False noticed Pete didn’t laugh or jeer at them like most of the other main campus kids. She noticed his hands were slightly trembling. Was Pete afraid of something? Or _someone?_ )

The hermits stood there for ten minutes as their schoolmates gradually walked in. It was their tradition to laugh at the 3-H students. False couldn’t hear what they were saying though, because she and Ren were eagerly talking about their building designs.

“I’m going for a cyberpunk theme for this one!” False excitedly flipped through her notebook pages to show Ren her blue, grey, and white “evil tower”. 

“Nice! My colour scheme’s almost the opposite of yours,” Ren chuckled. He showed False his Darth Vader tower inspired design, which primarily featured black and red. Just then, someone started yelling at the hermits.

“Aww look at the poor hermits! Having to stand there—“

False raised her voice. “Ren! Why do our towers look so evil!” 

“Must suck to live up there on the hill-“

“Maybe we _are_ evil!” Ren exclaimed, also increasing his volume slightly. “Just kidding. You’re the farthest thing from evil, Falsie.”

“Oy! Look at me when I’m talking to you—“

An idea struck False. “You know how we can make this better?”

“UHH? Hermits? Hello? You’re supposed to look sad—“

“Yeah, Falsie?” Ren boomed, staunchly ignoring the main campus kid who was trying to get their attention.

False and Ren stared at each other. “ _We can blow up a hole under the tower_ ,” they said in unison. Their eyes lit up. “Jinx! Jinx again!”

As the two high-fived and cheered, the main campus kid growled, “Making fun of you guys isn’t worth my time. Why are you so hard to annoy?!”

“I can make, like a little city in the hole!” False took out a pen and started scribbling.

“And I think I can fit in a storage system in my whole! Aesthetic and functional!” Similarity, Ren started to jot down some notes.

Somebody tapped False’s shoulder. “Hey False, the assembly’s starting. Featuring your favourite Green God, Fruitberries, as the student council president.”

False’s heart leapt. “Wait, Fruit bet Dream—?” She glanced at the stage. “Oh Cub, you jester. That’s Dream. Stop making fun of me!”

“DID SOMEONE SAY FRUITBERRIES?!”

They all turned to see Grian, eyes shining with excitement. “I _love_ Fruitberries! He’s the coolest! I consider him one of the boiz!”

Iskall snickered. “Grian, you’ll get along with Falsie, our local Fruitberries stan.”

“What? I don’t stan anyone—“

Grian grabbed False’s hands and started to jump up and down. “Yess!! Finally someone appreciates Fruity B!” He screeched.

 _Fruity B?_ False thought. _That’s Grian’s nickname for him?_

“I’m so tired of people mistaking Fruity B as Dream!” Grian continued with a passion. “Like, Fruity B is _soooo_ good. He’s his own person! He’s not someone who looks like Dream.”

“For your information, I keep on mistaking _Dream_ as Fruit instead of the other way round.”

“Dream doesn’t exist in Falsie’s brain,” Cub called out. 

“I wish I had your brain, False,” someone said.

“Thanks.”

“Oh my goodness! There’s Fruit over there!” Grian squealed. 

Fruit had the best green colour for his hair, and also had the cutest and most charming smile. He was chatting with some main campus students, but upon hearing his name, he turned towards the hermits. False’s heart skipped a beat, and she expected Fruit to laugh at them and crush Grian’s dreams-

But Fruit just waved at them. And Grian dissolved.

“He _noticed me!”_ Grian exclaimed, his hands over his heart. “Oh my poor little heart! I can’t cope! Fruity B!! He _saw_ me!”

“Grian, chill, chill.” Mumbo said. “Where’s your gong?”

To everybody’s amazement, Grian produced a small gong from his pocket and struck it once. The clang rebrevated throughout the area and False found herself somehow calming down. 

“Breathe in, and breathe out.” Grian’s voice floated towards her ears. “Phew! I’m alright now. I’m still really excited though.”

The school year had barely begun, but it was already so chaotic that False was contemplating buying a gong for herself. 

**_“UWU!”_ **a voice suddenly yelled, instantly rendering the gong’s calming effects useless. Scott groaned. “Ohhh, it’s good old Stanley Twitt.”

“Welcome back to MCYT!” Stan Twitt exclaimed with a beam. “I missed you all sooo much! Especially the white boy, white boy, and white boy! UwU!”

“Someone kill me,” Tango muttered.

“Only if you kill me too,” Impulse replied. 

“What’s ooh-wooh?” Scar asked curiously. Cub explained it to him. Scar blinked. “Oh, I thought it was pronounced like wuwu.”

“Now a welcome message from our new student council president, everyone’s favourite Green God!” Stan Twitt continued.

“Fruitberries,” half of the hermits and Grian answered automatically. False sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“The manhunt master, the mysterious smiley face guy, the super hot, super cute, UwU best white boi… DREAM himself!” Stan Twitt screeched. “YEAHH! DREAM SMP? More like, DREAM S **I** MP.”

All the students cheered, except for the hermits, who just clapped politely. They were probably disappointed it wasn’t Fruit, who had somehow become a patron saint of the hermits just because he waved at them. 

Dream introduced the rest of the student council, which were predominantly white and male. False couldn’t really blame him though. Their school had so many white males, and class 3-H was no exception. (In 3-H, there were 3 females to like 20 males? Man.) False noticed in addition to the Dream Team, Technoblade was there. The two were friendly rivals, and maybe Dream invited Techno to unite their ginormous fanbases?

False was not paying attention to Dream’s speech until she heard the word “hermit”. Her ears instantly perked up. Next to her, her friends jolted up, similarly awakened. Apparently all of the hermits shared a brain.

“As we all know, third years, hermits included, will be allowed to participate in our school’s prestigious monthly Championships. This year, following complaints about how “ugly” the arena is, Professor Noxite has renovated everything. Don’t worry, Survival Games still exist,” Dream said to soothe the already raging masses. “There are some new games, such as Sands of Time, Sky Battle, aaaand… something something supermarket. It’s not that important. Probably.”

“You’re going to change your mind at the 13th Championship while being on a cursed pink team to avoid the underdogs snatching a win again!” came a boisterous voice.

“Thank you for your… very specific prediction, HBomb.”

“It’s called Big Sales at Build Mart!” Scott called from the audience. The hermits were once again surprised by how vocal their new teacher was.

“Yes, yes, thank you Mr. Major. He’s one of our new teachers, by the way. He’s working with Professor Noxite to organize the Championships.”

“The Championships are arguably the most important part of your third year life, other than simping,” Dream continued. “Yes, I’m looking at you, George.” The fangirls screeched and died because of this one (1) comment. False would probably laugh at them if she hadn’t witnessed Ren losing all of his braincells because of Doc. 

“Students will form teams of two to four to participate. You are allowed to team up with students from other classes. 10 teams will be chosen by Mr. Major, and there will be 8 minigames. The top two scoring teams will face each other in a final round of Dodgebolt! How exciting! The first team to win three rounds of Dodgebolt wins the Championship! And to be more… accommodating to the hermits this year,” Dream glanced at 3-H, “if any hermit gets into the top two teams, they will be allowed to rejoin the main campus and be one of us again! In previous years, only hermits from the winning team were allowed to leave 3-H. You guys gotta work hard though, since none of the hermits have ever left the bottom half.”

The main campus students started to snigger. The hermits looked a little sad, not because people were laughing at them, but because they were still salty that Fruit wasn’t the student council president. False had no idea they took this Fruit thing so seriously.

But for the first (and possibly the only) time, Dream’s words awakened something inside her. The hermits had a chance to join the main campus, no matter how small it was. So what if the hermits from previous years performed badly? Nobody was born perfect (unlike what Stan Twitt thought). False could gain back everything she had lost (except her sanity, which her friends stole from her). Everyone would respect her and the hermits again. 

_Minecraft Championship, here I come,_ False promised to herself.

* * *

Most of False’s classmates weren’t that enthusiastic about the Championship. Scott promised them they could renovate their classroom, which was infinitely more intriguing than Naruto running or whatever those PvPers called it. 

Scott clapped his hands together. “I know we’re all excited, but we’ve got to do some housekeeping first. I checked your grades and geez, you kids are smart. You probably know more than I do. Like, Etho invented a hopper clock? And Grian founded Wynncraft? You’re all skilled and experienced crafters. All of you folks don’t need school!”

“But I still need to give out grades and boring stuff, soo… how about three hours of normal school in the morning, and then we work on the classroom for the rest of the day?” Scott suggested. “You’ll actually be building it though, which can train your strength and handgrip and whatever, so the sports-loving school can’t sue me.”

“That sounds sweet!”

“Mr. Major, how are you even cooler than you already are?”

Scott let the hermits do their thing. He reclined in a chair, put on some shades, and made sure they didn’t blow anything up (which they were surprisingly prone to doing so). Meanwhile, Scar and Grian started to argue on the building design.

“Grass is the best!” Next to Scar, Cub and Bdubs nodded furiously.

“Excuse me? Mycelium’s been here from the beginning. Mycelium Resistance!” Grian retorted.

“More like, _resist the Mycelium,_ ” Bdubs snarled. 

“Grian, one more word and I’ll be declaring war!” Scar pointed a shaky finger at Grian.

“Scar, you don’t want to start a war against me,” Grian said in a dangerously soft voice, then he smirked. “I _will_ steal your children.”

“NOO!” Scar jumped back and hugged Jellie tightly. “Don’t touch my baby Jellie!”

“Nah, not Jellie. I love Jellie. As for Baby Yoda though…” Grian stroked his chin mock-thoughtfully. “Hmm… interesting…”

“Not my baby boi!” Scar whined. He furiously gestured at the mushrooms on the floor. “If you take Baby Yoda, I’ll step on your mushroom Sally!”

A few paces away from the Grass VS Mycelium debate, Mumbo and Iskall were sitting on pool floaties and discussing something called “Pacific”. Ren was whining how there wasn’t a pink floatie for him to sit on. Zedaph was working on some weird contraption. False exchanged looks with the two other girls in 3-H, which were Stress and Cleo. It was amazing how much one could convey in facial expressions alone. 

If nobody was going to stop a civil war, they were going to do it themselves.

“Alright, boys, wot’s happening? Stop your fighting!” Stress declared. “Let’s solve this in a civil manner.”

“But I want a Turf War!” Grian whined. “Come on, can’t a guy start a war! It’ll be fun!”

“There’s only one war worth fighting, and it’s against Stan Twitt,” False told him sternly. 

“Grass or Mycelium? Why not…” Cleo waggled her eyebrows, “ _both_?”

There was silence as Cleo’s legendary compromise sunk in. 

“Thank you for spreading the bisexual agenda,” came Joehill’s voice. 

“Why not.. both,” Scar repeated. “Huh. Well, I guess we can negotiate-”

“Scar, I’mma be honest. I never liked mycelium,” Grian admitted. “It’s super ugly. This resistance? It’s all about the principle (or maybe the principal, because Stan Twitt is uglier than mycelium). I just wanna mess with you, Scar. And bother you into helping me finish designing the back of the mansion.”

“ _EXCUSE ME?_ ”

Ren, who had just pestered Iskall into letting him sit on one of Pacific’s pink floaties, dashed towards Grian. “What do you mean it’s all about the principle? How about my Pamela?”

“Pamela?” False echoed, sounding confused.

“My… mushroom!” Ren pointed at a smaller, red-and-white polka dotted mushroom right next to Grian’s mushroom Sally. “Don’t take my baby Pamela away!”

(“Mycelium causes brain rot,” Cub whispered to False, who nodded in agreement.)

“Ren, that mushroom looks poisonous.” Jevin entered the conversation. “Let’s remove it.”

Ren gasped, extremely offended. “Slime Jevin! How dare you! Fight me with nothing but our fists, with our chests bare-’”

“Fine! _Fine!_ We’ll keep Sally and Pamela!” Scar raised his hands and yelled. “Only because no one wants to see a shirtless Ren.”

“Tell that to Doc,” Cleo muttered under her breath. 

So that was how the hermits decided on their design. All the mycelium would be removed by the “totally not evil laser” that Scar created, save for Ren and Grian’s two mushrooms. Scott, after teaching the class how to maintain the ecosystem, allowed them to chop some of the trees on the hill. They used the wood to build an elegant rustic house that Scar, Grian, and Bdubs jointly designed. Then they thought it was getting boring so Keralis grabbed airplane models and stuck them around the building (“because it looks cool!”), next day Beef brought llamas to school, Iskall built a dabbing penguin, and False contributed by bringing colourful jellyfish balloons (“since we’re going with an animal theme?”). Xisuma and Keralis nearly brought bees to school but were stopped by practically everyone. Now that they had unlimited freedom, and weren’t forced to participate in training, the hermits went crazy. And the best part was that they were actually strengthening their physical skills by moving building materials and jumping from place to place. 

Ren discovered a fondness for chopping down trees. “I’m gonna get into shape, baby! Ohhh ladies, get in line!”

They didn't just make the place pretty, they also made it functional. The prospective engineers created an air conditioning system of their own within the first two weeks, and had negotiated with the architects so the newly designed classroom could be properly ventilated. Doc had even invited his genius friends from the neighbouring school (they called themselves Scicrafters) to help them. A month later, half of their electricity was generated by renewable energy, and Mumbo and Grian were working on an AI. Scott was amazed by the hermits and he barely did anything except funding them.

“I’ve always known you’re capable, but this?” Scott gestured at the densely vegetated lawn, lovingly decorated classroom and the wind turbines on the roof. “This is beyond my expectations. You’ve outdone yourselves. Great job, Hermitcrafters!”

“It’s all thanks to you,” Scar giggled. “You let us go feral. And you gave us the opportunity to express ourselves, which the main campus, with its disgusting cobblestone walls, never did.”

But outside of the 3-H bubble, something much bigger was happening. The 1st Championship was about to take place. HBomb, a member of 3-A, stared at the team lists. A single hermit had signed up.

And it wasn’t who you thought it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m genuinely having too much fun with this. I’m so glad that people actually like this lol.
> 
> Lyrics at the beginning of this chapter are from Shelter (Porter Robinson, Madeon).
> 
> By the way, Pete’s hands were shaking because he was so excited that he could meet his heroes, the hermits lol. (But he can’t let anyone know, because Battle Scars!Pete can’t let himself be seen as weak.)
> 
> Please tell me I’m not the only one who noticed similarities between Ren and False’s S7 bases. 
> 
> And you know what, maybe this fic IS all about the Principal (Stan Twitt).
> 
> Hope you enjoy lol! :P


	4. Loners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jevin and False fight with country rock playing in the background, False observes H and Fruit during their practice sessions, the gang have a sleepover at Stress' house, two hermits watch the 1st Championship, Scott is held at gunpoint by Stan Twitt to smile, Fruitberries makes a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic goes from crack to salt to fluff to angst quicker than Grian's Dodgebolt shots. Why am I like this.
> 
> By the way, I don't mean for interactions to be seen as shippy, but I won't steal your kneecaps if you ship them though. Even though they're all around the same age here, their ages vary in real life. Just remember Fruit is like 18 and Ren is maybe 20 years older than him.

“Jevin? You’re participating in the 1st Championship?”

“Shhh Falsie! Not so loud!”

Jevin and False stood a little way from their 3-H classroom, two wooden swords in Jevin’s hands. They were at a clearing, trees surrounding them from all sides.

It wasn’t like False had forgotten about the Championship and her ticket to return to the main campus, it was just too much fun building their classroom. And she never expected Jevin to be the first hermit in the Championship. 

“I’ll be joining with some of my friends in 3-G and 3-F,” Jevin explained. “I don’t expect to win, I’m just doing it… for the experience.”

“For the experience,” False repeated.

“Yeah! Sooo… please keep it a secret from the other hermits. I don’t want them to cheer for me when I’m not going to put in that much effort anyway. We know if our classmates know I’m in the Championship, they’ll feverishly support me even if I tell them not to.”

“But—“ It didn’t feel right for a single hermit to go to the Championship alone. False knew she definitely wasn’t doing that. 

Jevin’s blue eyes looked at her seriously. “False, I trust you.”

“Alright.” False couldn’t say no to that. She shifted on her feet. “So, uhh, why did you tell _me_ in particular?”

Jevin suddenly looked shy. “Uh, would you mind training me? Just a few rounds of sparring. So I don’t go in completely unprepared.” Jevin tossed her a sword, which she caught.

“Sure thing. By the way… I’ll confess that I want to watch the Championship. So I can study the Championship and, y’know,” False shrugged, “figure out some strategies. But you said you don’t want the hermits to watch.”

Jevin laughed. “Ohh, it’s okay if it’s just you. I just don’t want, let’s say, a huge glowing sign, balloons, accompanied by twenty gongs clanging at the same time. You know how extra the hermits are.”

So False dueled Jevin and gave him pointers on where to attack and tips to defend himself. Their little duel session was quickly discovered by others, in particular Scar and Bdubs who were taking a stroll. Thankfully, they thought it was just a friendly fight and had nothing to do with training whatsoever. 

“This needs some hype music!” Bdubs announced. “Scar, don’t you have a radio?”

“On it!” Before Jevin and False could stop him, Scar was already fiddling with his radio and rapidly switching through the music channels. “This one’s too grim… and this one’s too upbeat! Man! Is there no good music to listen to while fighting your friends?”

Country rock suddenly blasted through the radio, and Jevin yelped, “That’s it, Scar! This is perfect. We’re fighting to country rock. Don’t bother with anything else.”

“Wh-what?”

“You’re the best DJ in the world,” False told him, readying her sword. Guitars twanged in the background as someone moodily sung about their truck or something. She rushed towards Jevin, who parried her attack. 

“You know what, fighting with this music is strangely fun,” Jevin told False with a chuckle. 

“I know right!”

And for an hour, False could pretend she was having fun with Jevin. She could pretend Jevin wasn’t going to enter a Championship and get absolutely slaughtered by the PvPers. She could pretend that the hermits weren’t going to be laughed at by everyone. And everything was fine.

* * *

False noticed that teams were starting to practice for the Championship, so after school, she put on a banana hoodie (a birthday gift from her friends) and sneaked down to the main campus, notebook in hand. Many new games were added this year, including the universally detested Parkour Warrior (at least, everyone that False had spoken to hated it). Hence, she wanted to know more about these games from watching others practice.

To her surprise, much of the Dream Team/ Dream’s SIMPs/ Dream’s friends/ whatever they called themselves weren’t there. In fact, Pete was the only Green God playing. False heard it was because they were busy doing something else (Naruto running or these things called “manhunts”, probably). But she still saw the hermits’ patron saint Fruitberries sparring with somebody.

False watched as Fruit and the other guy fought. Fruit was clearly the better one (why wouldn’t he be? He was a Green God), but the other guy wasn’t bad as well. 

“That was a good one, H!” Fruit cheered when the other guy hit his shoulder.

 _H?_ False glanced at the list of participating students. _That has to be HBomb._ False had heard of him, but she didn’t know him very well.

Other students were sparring, but False couldn’t help but focus on H and Fruit. Fruit wasn’t all attacking; he made sure to teach H some moves. False could only dream of replicating them. H and Fruit two weren’t just classmates in 3-A, they were also good friends, as False could see from their friendly punches and nudges. She quickly scribbled notes down, hoping to at least learn a little. 

After a while, H left Fruit behind to chat with some main campus kids. False wondered if Fruit would spar with someone else, but he just sat on a bench, all alone. Fruit then took out his phone and presumably started texting someone. 

The area was filled with shouts and yells and sounds of swords clashing. Everybody had someone else, whether to chat with or to spar with. Everybody except two. One, a hermit whom nobody noticed, who isolated herself from her friends to learn more about the Championships. Two, one of the most skilled students, one of the Green Gods, on top of the food chain, Fruitberries himself. 

Somebody walked past Fruit, and False saw him stand up and call to that somebody, but he was ignored. False glimpsed the familiar crestfallen look on Fruit’s face before it quickly disappeared. Ah. So Fruit had experienced that as well. False felt a stab of empathy. She didn’t expect to feel that for someone who was supposedly massively popular.

Fruit sat down on his bench again, and picked up his water bottle. From his actions, False could infer that his water bottle was empty, but before Fruit could do anything about it, a redhead teacher appeared and asked Fruit to talk to them. False didn’t recognize the teacher— was it a new teacher? Perhaps the Cherry Twitt person Cub had been talking about? Anyway, Fruit left with the teacher, leaving nothing on the bench but a single lime green water bottle. 

Five minutes later, when Fruit returned, he found his water bottle was half full.

“Strange,” he muttered to himself. “I could’ve sworn it was empty. Well, thanks H, I guess. I mean, who else can it be?”

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of banana yellow passed by.

* * *

Next day, and the day after that, False returned to observe the practice sessions. She wore her banana hoodie every time, because it made her feel safe and secure. (Read: it made her feel like her friends were with her.)

She didn’t ask any of the hermits to accompany her, since she was sure they would make a huge fuss out of it. Jevin and his friends were practicing outside of school and False didn’t want to disturb them. 

So False quietly sat in her corner. This time Fruitberries wasn’t there, but that HBomb guy was. In fact, he and his team were sitting pretty close to False. Not close enough for it to be awkward, but close enough for False to hear them (or maybe H was just loud.)

“Let’s go, guys!” H whooped. “We got this!”

He started to analyse each of his teammates’ strengths and weaknesses, making sure to reassure them when they doubted themselves. False listened to him ramble about strategies and what each teammate should do. He heartily slapped his teammates’ backs.

Funny. This main campus student, a student from 3-A nonetheless, was making False feel… comfortable. Or as comfortable a stranger could make her feel. At first, False couldn’t figure out why. But then she gazed at H’s brown hair and saw the excited glint in his blue eyes, and with a jolt, she realised it.

He reminded her of Ren.

The unwavering optimism. The trust in his teammates. The way he cracked jokes and made it sound so easy. This HBomb was a lot like Ren. 

_Stop! What are you thinking about!_ False scolded herself. H was from the main campus and was probably only nice to the main campus kids. He wasn’t a hermit like Ren. False was sure H would sneer at them like everybody else did. His encouragement was reserved for people who were good at sports, not silly hermits trying to make it big. False couldn’t trust the main campus students. 

… Now False missed Ren. She took out her phone and checked her messages. Scar was spamming the class chat with pictures of Jellie, which no one minded. Grian was spamming the class chat with puns, which everyone minded. False quietly laughed, amused by her friends. She noticed Stress had sent her a text.

 **Stress:** Hi False! Surprise sleepover tonite? <3

 **False:** sure! :D usual peeps, amirite?

 **Stress:** Yeah! Grian’s coming too

 **Stress:** we’re all meeting up at my house rn

 **False:** oh, so fast?

 **Stress:** Haha yeah

 **Stress:** all the boiz are talking about capitalism

 **False:** oh lol

 **False:** convex duo and architect and pacific…

 **Stress:** yeah :( Im the only one not in a megacorporation

 **False:** :(

 **False:** sorry stress, i got something to do now

 **False:** should be free in a few hours

 **False:** ill go to your house at 6

 **Stress:** np falsie! See you tonite! <33

 **False:** See ya! <333

False tugged her banana hoodie closer to herself, and listened as H continued to practice with his teammates. As they chatted and laughed boisterously, False suddenly felt like she didn’t belong here at all.

* * *

“Oh my God! False is finally here!”

“Hi Stress. Hey guys.”

False stepped into Stress’ house, which was lovingly decorated with purple and magenta carpets, walls, and just about everything. Alliums grew in neat lines of flowerpots, and a sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling. Out of their close circle of friends, only False and Stress had houses tidy enough for people to visit, but the former did not allow anyone to sleep over at her house. (Ren was an exception, only because he occasionally locked himself out of the house at nighttime.)

Everybody else had arrived. Scar and Ren were busy playing with a Lego set, while Cub and Grian were arguing about Star Wars. Stress was teaching Mumbo how to weave flower crowns, and Iskall was in the kitchen, wearing an apron that said “Kiss the Cook”. False noticed that both Ren and Iskall had pigtails with ribbons, which were likely Stress’ work.

“I bought you guys something!” False raised a hand to shake the packet of cookies she had purchased. They all cheered, delighted they had more food.

“Sorry that I didn’t have time to bake cookies,” False said. “Next time I’ll make a cookie of everyone here. I’ll draw your faces in icing.”

“Your cookies are really good, Falsie.”

“Wait, isn’t that cannibalism?”

“ _We don’t talk about that, Grian._ ”

False carefully tucked her banana hoodie inside her bag and sighed. It had been a long day at school, and while False had a fruitful time studying the PvPers, she sorely missed her friends.

“Hey False! Here’s the Concorp drone that you asked for.” False turned to see Cub giving her a cardboard box. “I trust you to take care of it.”

“Thanks Cub! Appreciate ya!”

“Not a problem.” Cub waved a hand dismissively. “I still dunno what you’re using it for.”

“Oooh, a drone!” Ren joined in the conversation. “I’ve used lots of those! Those aerial shots are ah-maize-ing, man!”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe you two can teach me how to use it later?”

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s watch something that isn’t a compilation of Ren being mildly inappropriate!” Iskall declared.

“Ohh! I know!! We should show Grian the Logfellas Court Trial!” Stress suggested. “I have the DvD somewhere…”

The Logfellas Court Trial was a short film False and a few others had worked on in their first year. Stress was not directly involved, but she had rewatched it so many times she probably knew it better than they did. Grian only met them last year, so he probably had no clue what the court trial was.

“Grian, get a tasty beverage and some snacks and enjoy the show!” Ren exclaimed. 

Stress dimmed the lights and they all watched the court trial with content smiles. Grian laughed and pointed at the screen every time someone showed up in a suit.

“Isn’t that _Mumbo’s_ suit?” he squealed, clutching his sides. “Why is everyone wearing Mumbo’s clothes?”

“This is why we don’t put Mumbo in charge of the costumes,” Scar remarked. “He has no fashion sense whatsoever.”

“Aha! So says the _cowboy_ ,” Mumbo retorted. 

False chuckled. Ahh, it sure felt good to relax. She felt somebody comb through her long golden hair— it was Stress.

“You okay, luv?” Stress asked in a motherly way. “You seem a little tired lately.”

False exhaled. “Just a little _stressed_ ,” she replied, laughing a little at her pun.

… To be honest, False hadn’t mentioned the Championship to any of her friends _yet._ That was why she went down to the main campus alone. Of course she wanted someone to go to the Championships with her, but she wasn’t ready. And she didn’t want to distract her friends from their projects. So she would wait.

Stress started to play with False’s hair. “You know, your hair’s really pretty. Have you ever thought about braiding it or tying it up? I think a ponytail will look good on you.”

“Nah. I like it when it’s around my shoulders. Less restraint, more freedom. And I like having freedom.”

“You do you, luv!”

“But I mean… I don’t mind it when _you’re_ doing my hair,” False said. “Because you make me look pretty.” She giggled.

“Aww, that’s because you already are pretty!”

For one night, False was determined not to think about the main campus and Fruit and H. This sleepover was dedicated to having fun with her friends. And from how loud her friends were, False found it easy to forget her troubles.

* * *

False knew Jevin didn’t want the hermits to support him in the 1st Championship, but False couldn’t help but put on an aqua jacket (aqua was Jevin’s team colour and coincidentally the colour of his hair). Even if Jevin couldn’t see her at the Championship, False wanted to support him in her own way. She also learned it was surprisingly easy to sneak away from 3-H. Although they had all grown close to each other, it wasn’t weird to have one of them disappear for half a day. The hermits could be mega engrossed in their projects and not interact with anyone at all. False hadn’t realized this until Stress commented on how she hadn’t seen Iskall and Mumbo for several hours (they were busy working on “Pacific”).

The Championships happened in the afternoon on a school day, and all lessons after lunch would be cancelled. (It used to happen on Saturdays, but no one wanted to go to school on Saturday, even if it was for the Championship). Scott had to leave 3-H so he could manage the Championship. So False thought no one would notice if she disappeared for three hours after lunch. 

She was wrong.

“Hey, Falsie, where are you going?”

It was Ren, smiling innocently at her. False glanced at her aqua jacket and the drone in her hands, then back at Ren. He had caught her walking down the hill and to the main campus.

“Are you watching the Championship?” he asked. False did not have it in her to lie to him, and mumbled a “yes”.

“Ohhh! Is that why you’re bringing Cub’s drone? So you can record the Championship?”

“Yep.”

“Sweet! Can I join you?”

… False was finding it hard to say no to Ren. He was always so nice and endearing. And if False brought just one hermit with her, Jevin wouldn’t be _too_ upset, right? 

So False somehow ended up going to the main campus with Ren by her side. She didn’t know why he had chosen to do that. He didn’t look like he was particularly interested in the Championship.

But then a thought struck False.

_He wants to keep you company._

False had always been a little quiet and shy. That was why she got along so well with Mumbo in their first year, as both were introverts and dedicated to their craft. They also had a mischievous side that they only showed to close friends, and they enjoyed messing with each other. However, Mumbo’s popularity caused him to distance himself from his friends, False included. False didn’t mind. _Really._ Mumbo just wanted to keep them safe and free from discourse. Sometimes False just ate lunch on her own, and sometimes she was the one left behind when her classmates paired up for group projects. It was totally fine. 

It was at that time Ren befriended her.

False had always known Ren as the “weird neighbour kid” and never spoke much to him. But then they were enrolled in the same school and started to go to school together. False could not recall the exact moment they became friends— it had to be somewhere between the first time she saved Ren from falling in a pond (yes, it happened multiple times) and that time when Ren accidentally stepped on a spider and they both cried (because they were devastated by the spider’s death, not because they were scared). 

And being friends with Ren meant she would be friends with Ren’s friends, which included Iskall. And Iskall was the guy who coaxed Mumbo back into interacting with his friends. So everything worked perfectly. 

False gazed at the back of Ren’s head. He didn’t have to accompany her, she was fine with being alone, but he knew she didn’t really like that. As a socially awkward person, she felt uncomfortable without her friends. And Ren knew that without her saying it.

… She was so thankful for Ren.

“Ohh look, is that the Decision Dome?”

False followed his gaze to a rainbow coloured floor topped with a glass dome, with a huge timer above it. “Yeah, that’s it. Man, Noxite outdid themselves. Look at how pretty this is!”

  
“It’s easily the most beautiful thing in the area. Second only to me, I mean,” Ren replied.

“I wish Noxite renovated the rest of the school as well. Maybe that’s why the main campus kids are so bad tempered. I would lose my mind if I had to stare at cobblestone walls eight hours a day.”

False introduced Ren to the different games. She’d done research on every one of them, plus she had heard some other participants talk about them. Ren nodded and observed their colourful surroundings excitedly like a child in a candy store. False couldn’t blame him. The Championships were _awesome_ , even if it didn’t favour the hermits.

“Oh wait Falsie! Is that Jevin?”

False froze. Jevin’s blue hair appeared in her peripheral vision. “Uhh, yeah. That sorta looks like him? Or it may be Pete with dyed hair. I dunno.”

“No, that’s totally Jevin! I didn’t know he was in the Championship! Man, the hermits should’ve formed a whole cheering squad for him!”

False winced, and let out a fake laugh. Thankfully Ren was too distracted to pick that up. The “cheering squad” was exactly what Jevin was afraid of. 

“You know, you should stop mistaking the Green Gods for other people.” Ren teased her. “Like, in your head there’s only Fruit, the guy who looks like Fruit, and the guy who looks like Jevin.”

False jokingly hit him. “Ohh, stop it! I’m getting better at recognizing Dream!”

False let Ren pilot the drone since he was better at it anyway. The hermit duo shuffled away from everyone and found a nice corner to sit down. It didn’t offer the best view, but since they had the drone, it didn’t matter. False took out bananas for her and Ren to munch on while they watched the Championship. 

A second familiar figure in the Decision Dome caught False’s attention, and she gasped, “Hey! That’s Mr. Major!”

“Mr. Major!” Ren and False cried out, frantically waving their arms. It took them twenty seconds for Scott to notice them. Scott grinned at them, and mouthed the words “ _Go Hermits!”_.

False took a look around. “Organizing a Championship of this quality… it must be tough for Mr. Major and Professor Noxite.”

“Certainly! We’ve got to appreciate their hard work.”

“Maybe we should actually behave and stop giving Mr. Major so many heart attacks in 3-H.”

“Tell that to the Boomers. It was a bad idea giving them explosives.”

The timer above the Decision Dome started to tick down. The crowd screamed and cheered for their favourite teams. 

**_“UWU MY OOMFS!!”_** an all too familiar voice screeched. Ren and False shared exasperated looks. Scott looked like someone was forcing him at gunpoint to smile. 

“Welcome to the 1st Championship!” Stan Twitt cried out. “I’m so so excited! _SHDJKSDLSGH!_ ”

“How did they say that out loud?” Ren said in amazement.

“By the way, shameless promotion time UwU! Best boi Dream just released another Manhunt video, please watch it—”

False and Ren watched as a good chunk of the audience stood up and left their seats, presumably to watch the new video. False’s jaw dropped. How could they give up watching the Championship live just to watch a video? Oh, it was totally because Dream wasn’t in the 1st Championship.

“For a long time, I thought Manhunts were a dating game,” Ren whispered to False. She gave him an odd look. “What? You hunt… men? That sounds like a dating game?”

“I’ve always thought it was a murdering game.” False had correctly inferred what Manhunts were. She probably knew more about Manhunts than Dream, the guy who popularized it. 

“Anyways, let the games begin! May the odds be in the favour of my UwU bois!”

Scott snatched the microphone, looking like he was in physical pain. “What Principal Twitt means is that may the odds be ever in your favour! These games are _not_ biased or scripted! You have my word! Aaaand the 1st Championship begins… NOW!”

* * *

As expected, Jevin’s team did not do particularly well in the first half. They still got 6th, which was already very good in the hermits’ eyes. The PvPers from 3-A and 3-B utterly dominated the games. 

During the intermission, Ren took out his earphones. “Let’s listen to some chill music, Falsie. I screamed my lungs out and you must be so tired from taking notes.”

“Sure.” False rubbed her eyes. Ren popped an earbud in her ear and they both nodded their heads to the beat. “Your brother composed this one, yeah?”  
  
“Spot on. I’m so proud of Jono.”

“I should probably commission him sometime. I know he did music for Grian.”

“Ohhh look, I just realized a hermit’s in the Championship,” an unfamiliar voice sneered. Ren and False instantly shared glances, their good mood ruined. Ren stopped playing the chill music.

“Poor little hermit trying to get back in the main campus… aww, how pathetic.”

False tensed. She didn’t want to lose her temper like she did at the Camera Incident, but she wasn’t going to let people slander _her_ hermits. 

“Wait, is that Fruity sitting next to us?” Ren whispered.

False looked, and discovered Ren was correct. Fruit had a slight frown on his face for some reason. False blinked, once again starstruck by Fruit.

“Who’s this hermit again? A Pete wannabe?”

“I don’t know any of the hermits other than Grian, and that’s because Grian won some prestigious prize before. The hermits are so irrelevant. No wonder everyone looks down on them.”

“I can’t take this,” Ren growled. “I’m going to say something.” False nodded. “Me too.”

“Guys, guys…”

A soft voice interrupted False’s train of thought. It was Fruitberries. He was trying to get the attention of the main campus students, who blithely ignored him.

“Bruh, I don’t even know why the hermits are trying. They’re just a waste of space—”

“HEY!” Fruit bellowed, voice uncharacteristically loud, which shocked everyone into silence. Ren dropped his earphones. False dropped her bananas. 

“What have the hermits ever done to you?” Fruit demanded. “It’s not like they stole from you, or punched your face—”

“One of them hit my friend.”

“Oops. That was my doing,” False murmured to Ren.

“Fine. But has this particular student Jevin done anything to deserve your… insults?” Fruit continued. “He’s just existing. Let him be.”

“Fruit, are you _standing up for the hermits_? You’re protecting them? Really?”

Fruit shrugged. “What? I’m chill with everybody in this school. Why are we so unnecessarily cruel to strangers? I’ll stand up for anybody.”

“Ohhh Fruitberries, you’re a lone wolf, deviating from the rest of us,” one of the main campus kids drawled. “That’s why you don’t have any friends in this school.”

Fruit flinched. So did Ren and False. “Untrue, but whatever,” Fruit said in a lighthearted tone. “Just don’t bully people.”

(False had a feeling Fruit didn’t mean it when he said “whatever”.)

The main campus kid took a step closer to Fruit and jabbed a finger at his forehead. “Don’t think you’re so high and mighty because you’re one of those Green Gods,” they seethed. “How many people do you hang out with? How many fans do you have? Do people even find you outside of school? You’re good at fighting, and that’s probably the only reason why people even talk to you, _sensei._ ” The last word was spat out with venom. 

“That’s what they all know you as. Some “sensei”. Someone who trained Techno and Dream. And now you’re known as a Hermit Lover.”

“A little embarrassing, really. Do you even deserve the Green God title?”

False found herself raging even though she barely knew who Fruit was. Nobody deserved to be hurt like that. God, not even Fruit was immune to being bullied. Stan Twitt’s school was even more terrible than she had thought. 

“K. You’re wasting my time.”

Fruit stiffly spun around and walked away, but False swore she saw Fruit’s hands tremble. Part of her wanted to chase after him, part of her wanted to “cancel” the person who insulted him (she won’t succeed in the cancelling, but oh well). Next to her, Ren had already stood up, expression unusually grim. 

“UWU GUYS!! THE INTERMISSION’S OVER!” Stan Twitt screeched. The audience screamed, hyped once again. 

“Hey! Don’t talk to Fruitberries like that!” Ren angrily shouted at the main campus students, but his voice was drowned out. False exhaled shakily. 

“That’s awful of them. I-I don’t know what to do. I mean, Fruit’s actually a stranger to us.”

“At least we can thank him for standing up for the hermits even if he doesn’t accept our comfort,” Ren pointed out. “I-I don’t know where he went though.”

“Let’s search for him,” False said without hesitation. She knew she had come to the Championship to learn from it, but no way in hell was she going to pretend _that_ hadn’t happened. She wasn’t going to ignore Fruitberries, even if he was a main campus student.

“I’ll leave the drone up there so we can catch up on the Championship later.” Ren looked up, and gulped. “For now, let’s find Fruit and talk to him. He has to be here.”

What the hermits didn’t know was that their search would be futile. Because Fruit had already left the audience stands.

* * *

“ _Calling Illumina…_ ”

“Pick up, pick up, please pick up,” a soft voice whispered with urgency. His feet moved on his own, carrying him to— he didn’t know where he was going, he just wanted to get _away._

“ _Connected.”_

“...”

“Yeah, Illumina, I’m _fineee_. Oh, why am I calling you? Haha, for no particular reason.”

“...”

“I see.”

“...”

“So it’s a few months before you can enter my school?”

“...”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’m doing alright here. They even call me a Green God! Haha… yeah.”

“...”

“Don’t worry, I’m making friends. I spar a lot with others. Even the really popular peeps like Techno and Dream. They call me “ _sensei_ ”. Cool, isn’t it?”

“...”

  
“Oh. I talk a lot about HBomb, don’t I? He’s a fun guy. I mean, he has a lot of friends because he’s friends with practically everyone. So I probably don’t mean a lot to him.”

“...”

“Hahahaha. Sorry, was being self-deprecating.”

“...”

“You’re busy, aren’t you? Sorry for disturbing you. I don’t know why I made this call. Haha.”

His laughter was so fake. He didn’t know how he was fooling Illumina.

“...”

“Bye. Miss you too, Illumina.”

The call ended. He sighed, and absentmindedly brought his hands up to his face. His feet were still moving.

That was right. All he knew was how to run away like a coward. Always running. Always running, running away from people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... To be honest, that Fruity plot popped out of nowhere. Idk maybe I was having too much fun and needed some angst to balance it out :D
> 
> Don't worry, Illumina will be in the school. Eventually :))
> 
> I really wanted to add in False saving Ren since she did that a lot in Hermitcraft, and the best I could come up with was "saving him from falling into a pond" and "letting him stay over when he forgot to bring his keys". Since saving Ren from an explosion or a murderer is, y'know, a bit unrealistic.
> 
> False is now associated with a banana. I mean, she brought this on herself! Banana False ftw!
> 
> Ask me any questions @riacte! :D Hope you liked this update!


	5. Humble Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> False does not know how to react to Fruit and H being nice to her, Wels relates to Scott about having clones, False is worried that no one wants to join the Championships with her (despite Ren being LITERALLY THERE), We Believe in Builders Solidarity, Pogsupremacy Origin Story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I did not watch MCC2-3 (because no hermits lol). All my knowledge comes from transcripts and the MCC wiki.
> 
> Thanks to Ivi for helping me with the Scott Major/ Dangthatsalongname bit! (You'll see it a little later!)

“Heyo Fruit! How are you doing?”

Fruit grinned up at H. “I’m okay, thanks for asking. You did great at the 1st Championship, by the way.”

H groaned. “Too bad I didn’t win. It’s fine. We got third.”

“You’re gonna join the 2nd Championship, right? Sign ups just started.”

“You bet! I want to be in every Championship!”

They sparred a little more. Fruit always enjoyed training with H, and it wasn’t just because H was his friend (H _totally_ wasn’t his only friend in the school). H was a good sport and gave him genuine praise, which was rare in an environment where connections meant everything and mindless simping was rampant. 

“Hey, H!”

H turned around to see Dream aka. the guy practically everyone mistook Fruit for. “”Wanna have dinner with the Dream SMP people?”

“Sure thing, Dream!” H whooped. He then turned back to Fruit, an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry, Fruit, I got to go.”

“Oh, it’s alright. Gimme your equipment, I’ll clean it for you. Have a good time, H!”

Fruit watched as H left, laughing and chattering with Dream’s friends. He glanced down at his phone and resisted the urge to call Illumina.

_“This is fine…”_

* * *

Tired from writing down notes, False went to the school’s vending machine. To her surprise, she saw an exhausted Fruitberries there, his skin unusually pale. She watched as he punched some buttons and picked up an energy bar. False gulped.

 _C’mon False,_ she told herself. _Just thank him for standing up for Jevin and the hermits._

But by the time False had mustered up the courage to speak, Fruit had already slipped away.

* * *

False asked Jevin if he would consider joining more Championships. He said no. “I don’t think it’s my thing.”

“Ohh, alright.”

They both continued with their day.

* * *

The teams for the 2nd Championship were released. With her trusty banana hoodie around her shoulders, False went down to the main campus to catch a glimpse of the teams.

 _Technoblade. Tommy. Wilbur._ They were part of the student council and huge names. False was rather surprised that the UwU Manhunt Master (or whatever his title was), the smiley-green-guy-who-was-not-Fruitberries, Dream himself was not participating again. Neither were his friends George and Sapnap. Oh, well. 

Familiar names from the 1st Championship popped up. _HBomb. Eret. Pete. Sparklez. Dangthatsalongname._

Wait. Dang? The guy who looked _exactly_ like Scott? False remembered being extremely confused by seeing two Scotts in the 1st Championship.

False asked Scott about Dang later. He cheekily replied with “Dang’s my clone! I’ve always wanted to participate in the Championships, so I cloned myself!”

“That’s so relatable!” Wels, who overheard them, cheered. Scott’s smile melted, only slightly.

“Wait, Wels actually cloned himself?” Scott whispered to False once Wels was out of earshot.

“Yeah, Hels. They had a really cool rap battle. It went viral on YouTube,” False said with a shrug like summoning evil clones of yourself was part of everyday life (which it was, considering she was in 3-H). 

“Oh no. I was joking about Dang being my clone. He’s actually my little cousin. The Scott genes are just too strong.”

“Alright. Less exciting than having a clone, but I’ll accept it.”

“ _Less exciting?_ How crazy are you guys exactly?”

“You don’t wanna know, Mr. Major.”

* * *

One time False fell asleep while watching the practice sessions. She didn’t wake up until a guy nudged her shoulder and said, “Hey, Banana Girl, it’s time to go.”

False blinked her eyes blearily, and she realized two things:

  1. He had called her Banana Girl
  2. He was HBomb



But before she could do anything, he had already walked away, leaving her sitting alone in the dim light.

* * *

Ren found her watching the PvPers and joined her. Everything was always a lot more fun with Ren. He would give the PvP moves wacky yet memorable (and occasionally inappropriate) names, and he was there to lighten the mood. But one time they were so distracted by coming up with a joint building design that they talked about it for three hours straight (and the night afterwards) and completely neglected the very exciting Dream VS Techno fight that was going on.

Ren was fun, but also distracting. But False would rather have fun than be efficient. And she knew all of the hermits thought the same.

* * *

Ren and False watched the 2nd Championship together. None of the hermits were joining. A new game was added— Battle Box. All ten teams had to face and duel each other in a pit filled with obstacles and power ups. 

“This looks terrifying.” Ren shivered.

“This is probably one of those that we’re bad at,” False pointed out. 

They didn’t have any teams they supported, but they took extra notice of Grian’s friends from 3-G, which were Martyn and Jimmy. They were in Yellow Yolks.

“They’re not bad at this,” False commented. “Maybe we can team up with them some day? Since y’know, 3-GH solidarity. Crafters’ solidarity.”

They had both missed watching Dodgebolt last time because they were searching for Fruit. This time, they watched as Aqua and Cyan faced each other on the Dodgebolt court, with Stan Twitt standing in the middle and screaming.

“UWU MY BOI TOMMY’S IN DODGEBOLT! I guess he’s Tommy _Innit_ the finals!”

“I feel like Stan Twitt is gonna be here for every single Dodgebolt,” Ren whispered to False. “Someone should shut them up.”

“Aww, poor Mr. Major. He looks like he’s dying.”

False observed the top two teams, and saw one familiar face. “Ooh! HBomb’s in Aqua!”

“Ohh, the guy who reminds you of me?”

“Yeah, H!”

Ren scrutinized H. “I can sort of see that. He’s gorgeous like me. So, are we supporting Aqua?”

False paused. “I’m a little hesitant to support any of these teams because we don’t really know them. Not to mention many of the finalists are in 3-A and they usually treat us hermits the worst. HBomb seems nice, but I’ve only seen him be nice to the main campus people.”

“Yeah, I guess we can’t really trust them…” Ren looked dejected. 

Despite that, both of them still smiled when H and his team won the 2nd Championship. False knew better than to get attached to a potentially dangerous stranger, but H genuinely seemed friendly enough. Stan Twitt was rioting and clapping. Scott had put on headphones, which was a smart decision. 

“Oh hey look, that’s Fruity!” Ren called out, pointing at the familiar green figure that appeared on the court. “He’s congratulating H!”

“Yeah, they’re friends. They practice with each other a lot.”

Ren squinted his eyes. “Dudes, this HBomb guy sure is popular. He has so many friends! Look at the crowd of people around him!”

“Perks of being loud and in 3-A, I guess. Ohh, even Dream’s there. All the Green Gods are congratulating him.”

“He seems to be very well-liked,” False noted. “I wonder why he isn’t in the Student Council… that being said, none of the Green Gods are in the Student Council.”

“True! I think Dream just invited his close friends. Or maybe Stan Twitt forced him to invite his close friends,” Ren murmured conspiratorially. He furtively glanced around even though no one could possibly overhear them. “There’s a lot of weird stuff surrounding Stan Twitt.”

“You look really sus, Ren.”

“Not as sus as Stan Twitt. Well, anyways, thanks for watching this Championship with me!”

Ren grinned at her. “Sure thing!”

… Ren was just with her because he knew she didn’t like being lonely, right?

* * *

After Jevin, Iskall was False’s other choice for a Championship buddy. She and Iskall had been sent to 3-H for the same reasons (they protected Mumbo when he was being bullied), and they had both been in 2-B. Out of everyone in 3-H, they were the closest to the 3-A people in terms of PvP skill level. So other than her, Iskall was probably the other hermit who wanted to win. 

But when False asked him after signups for the 3rd Championship started, Iskall said he was interested, but he was focusing on something else at the moment. Something about “modpacks” and “servers”. 

“Maybe a few months later,” Iskall told her. “To be honest, being in 3-H made me branch out and explore new stuff. So I’m not into PvP as much now.”

“Alright. Your modpack thing sounds cool.”

As False walked away, she could hear Ren blasting Jono’s music as he cheerfully chopped down trees, oblivious to False and Iskall’s conversation.

* * *

So False did not join the 3rd Championship, but she still went to the practice sessions. Instead of purely taking notes, she decided to actually practice. With her trusty hoodie, no one would recognize her as a hermit. So, she leapt around the parkour practice area and climbed up and down ladders. She was nowhere near as good as everyone else, but at least she was trying, right?

… False was beginning to feel like a Fruit wannabe. Fruit was always wearing his lime green jacket to the point the jacket symbolized him— wait, Dream’s similarly coloured hoodie was probably more iconic because Dream had more “clout”. So maybe False was a Dream wannabe.

False was starting to recognize more Championship players. There were some who were in every Championship, such as HBomb, Dang, and Dang’s best friend Shubble. But there were always new faces, and none of the familiar faces from 3-G or 3-H. Well, Martyn and Jimmy were there quite often, but False hadn’t spoken to them.

… Man, False really didn’t speak to a lot of people. That was why she needed Ren. More like, she needed to step out of her comfort zone. 

She was so preoccupied by her thoughts that she missed a jump, and painfully landed on the trampoline below the parkour practice area. Thankfully, she wasn’t hurt, just a little disoriented. A hand appeared in her vision. 

“Hey! You alright?”

False instantly recognized the voice despite never having spoken to the person. She glanced upwards, and kind blue eyes gazed down at her.

HBomb.

False found herself getting oddly flustered. “Ohh, uhh, I’m alright!” She was so nervous she ignored H’s hand and tried to push herself up, but realized she couldn’t. She hastily took his hand and he helped her up. “Thank you.”

“I always see you around, Banana Girl.” There was no trace of mockery in his tone when he said her nickname; he even sounded friendly. “Will I see you in the Championships?”

False scratched the back of her head. “Uhh, maybe? If my friends join with me? Not this one, though.”

H nodded, understanding. False felt the atmosphere grow awkward. _That was why she didn’t talk to strangers!_

“Thanks again, I’ll be,” False nodded towards the door, “I have something to do. Uh. Bye.”

(False, did not, in fact “have something to do”. She had reserved the entire afternoon for practice.)

She hurried outside, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. Talking with people was so hard. And she was already feeling so… threatened by some nice guy who reminded her of one of her best friends. 

That was right. Ren. H always reminded False of Ren. She patted her pockets, trying to find her phone to see if Ren had texted her or something—

Her hands froze.

Her pockets were empty.

_“Banana Girl!”_

False flinched at the loud voice, but she didn’t show it. She stiffly turned around, and H ran up to her, a familiar object in his hand. “You dropped this.”

“Ahh, thank you.”

Just as False stretched out a hand to take her phone, a text lit up her screen. It was from the 3-H chat, and the words “ **3-HERMITCRAFT** ” were boldly displayed on the screen.

Both False and H stared at the phone for a little too long. False’s heart sunk. Now H knew she was in 3-H. What would he do? Mock her being bad at parkour and say she would never win?

But H just slipped the phone in her hand, smiled, and walked away. It was like he had never seen the text _even though False was 100% sure he did._

False grasped her phone tightly, staring at H’s retreating backside.

_What had just happened?_

* * *

Ren and False watched the 3rd Championship together. The “supermarket game” (as Dream put it) was played for the first time, and for some odd reason it was hugely disliked. 

“Why is everyone hating Build Mart?” Ren questioned while munching on the cookies False had baked.

False was equally baffled. “It’s a game that tests communication and cooperation and how well you can work with your teammates in a… team-based competition? Like, if you have to “hate” a game, it has to be Parkour Warrior, right? That’s the least team-related game.”

“I know, right? Build Mart looks fun,” Ren said. “I kinda wish I can play it.”

“BOOHOO!” Stan Twitt was screeching, flapping their arms. “This is soooo boring! Build Mart (derogatory)!”

“H-how did Stan even say parentheses out loud?!” False wheezed. 

“At this point, I’ve stopped questioning Stan Twitt. You know, Falsie, you should make cookies of Stan’s ugly head so we can crunch them for catharsis.”

“Will do. I’m afraid that will ruin everyone’s appetite, though.”

* * *

“Ren, can I talk to you for a second?”

Ren stopped chopping down trees and wiped his sweaty forehead. “Oh, hi Mr. Major. Am I in trouble?” (Ren always automatically assumed he was in trouble.)

Scott chuckled. “No, not at all. I was wondering if you’re interested in joining the Championships.”

Ren gestured at himself. “ _Me_?” he questioned incredulously.

“I’ve seen you watch all of the Championships with False. And I know you guys watch practice sessions together too.”

“Yeah… but the thing is, I… don’t think I should be in the Championships?”

Scott wrinkled his nose and looked like he was about to retort. He said, “You’re wrong, but go on.”

“Like I’m one of the worst PvPers in this class,” Ren laughed. “And Falsie… well, she probably wants to win and go back to the main campus. The Championships look fun but… there are hermits out there who’ll be a better fit.”

Scott studied Ren. “Okay, stop thinking about False for a moment. Do _you_ want to try playing in the Championships!”

“It looks so cool, and it’s such a well organised event! I’ll be honored to play there, that is, if I get accepted—“ Ren saw Scott’s face. “Oh, who am I kidding? My own teacher is in charge of deciding who gets to participate.”

“Not to sound biased, but if any of my students want to join, I’ll definitely let them in.” A pause. “Alright, I’m totally biased. You guys deserve recognition.”

Ren self-consciously rubbed his arms. “The Championships do look a lot of fun, but man… I dunno… it gets really competitive. And False is gonna be competitive.”

“But disregarding what you think, you _want_ to join, right?”

“.. Yeah?”

“Then you should join!” Scott said brightly. “If it’s too much to want to win, you can always join for fun at first. The Championships _are_ enjoyable, and not to brag, but we have overwhelmingly positive reviews even if Stan Twitt ruins some of the fun. Besides, you’ve watched all the Championships so you’re quite familiar with how it works. And your skills aren’t bad at all! You chop down trees every day, which is something I won’t do. And you’ve been doing this for months, if not years! You’re a professional!”

“Yeah… that sounds great, but False probably wants like, I dunno,” Ren vaguely waved his hands, “Iskall to join with her. Or Cub. Or even Grian. They’re all better at PvP than I am.”

Scott sighed, getting mildly exasperated by how Ren was looking down on himself. “Ren, think about it. Who saw False going down to watch the 1st Championship alone and joined her? Who went to watch every Championships with her? Who went with her to the practice sessions? _You._ I’m pretty sure she wants _you_ to team up with her.”

“B-but she didn’t ask me!”

Scott slapped his forehead. “Yeah, probably because she thinks you don’t want to join, and you don’t want to join because you think she doesn’t want _you_ to join… oh goodness. This is getting unnecessarily complex and annoying. Just tell her you want to be in. I promise you it’ll end well. Just _go_ and stop each other’s suffering.”

Scott stuffed a sheet of paper in Ren’s hands. It was the sign up form for the 4th Championship. Ren gripped it, still looking slightly hesitant. 

“You got this, Ren,” Scott patted Ren’s shoulder. “The Championships aren’t as great when all the players are sweaty and from 3-A and 3-B. As your homeroom, I really hope more hermits join, even if you don’t win. It’s a wonderful experience.”

A smile finally broke out on Ren’s face. “Alright! If you say so, Mr. Major.”

“That’s False over there!” Scott nudged Ren in False’s direction. “Come on, go talk to her!”

As Ren hurried over to False, Scott sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Man, I really deserve a pay raise.”

* * *

“Alright, Grian won another competition and all everyone is talking about is _Naruto running_?!”

“Iskall, chill! Naruto running can be… very important as well.” A pause. “I actually have no idea what Naruto running is, but Etho reminds me of Kakashi and Kakashi reminds me of Naruto, and Etho’s extremely cool, so Naruto running must be extremely cool as well.”

“But Grian, you _legitimately got a job offer by Mojang_!” Iskall exclaimed. “Mojang’s like, the biggest company in the world! And you’re what, a student?! Mojang hired a _student_?”

Grian flushed. “Iskall, you don’t need to say that so many times! Literally everyone here knows I got a job!”

Iskall pursed his lips and glared at the pathetically tiny blob of cobblestone grey that was the main campus. “But _they_ don’t! And even if they did, they probably wouldn’t care.”

Grian leaned back on his chair. “Yeahh, that’s because of all the _clout_ in this school. Some invisible… energy that fuels Stan Twitt. Or something. It’s what makes the popular people even more popular.” 

“Grian, you’re pretty popular. You have a bunch of fans at school. But you’re still overlooked because some others have more clout. And our beloved Principal Stan Twitt loves this system.”

Grian suddenly snapped his fingers. “Oh man! I just had a great idea!” he burst out. “ _Clout Resistance._ And remember… **_it’s all about the Principal_**. Because the Principal is why this school sucks.”

Iskall clutched his sides and chuckled. “ _It’s all about the Principal_. I like that, Grian.”

Next to them, False quietly stood, a sheet of paper in her hands. Iskall’s laughter was infectious, and the corners of her lips couldn’t help but quirk up. But that smile rapidly evaporated when False returned her attention to the sheet of paper, which was the signup form for the 4th Championship. 

False had spent the last three Championships learning and honing her skills. She believed it was time for her to get a bit of real experience. But the problem was: she hadn’t found a hermit who wanted to go to the Championship. And no _way_ was False participating in the Championships without her hermits. 

False stepped out of the classroom and felt the breeze blow through her hair. She glanced at the still-empty sign up form. After the 1st Championship, she had asked Jevin, who said no. After the 2nd Championship, she had asked Iskall, who also said no. Was she going to miss this one again? Was she going to have to beg the 3-G people to join with her? Iskall had told her he was interested, but when would he be free to join? Was False really going to have to wait for—

“Falsie!”

False spun to see Ren dashing towards her with a brilliant smile and a piece of paper in his hand. Behind him, she could see Scott with a proud look on his face. Ren threw his hands around her before she could react. Surprised, False stumbled backwards and hit a wall, but she hugged him back nevertheless.

“Uh, Ren? What’s going on?” she asked in confused joy. 

Ren grabbed her shoulders. “Falsie, I’ll go to the 4th Championship with you!” he declared.

And suddenly False felt very stupid. Of all people, she had somehow never managed to ask _Ren_ even though he had always been with her at Championship-related stuff. Of course it was Ren. 

“You’ll go with me?”

Ren’s eyes were soft yet bright. “Yeah, of course—”

False hugged Ren so hard he nearly fell down. “Oh my goodness, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that,” she whispered. “We’re gonna have so much fun together!”

“Totally! B-but wait, you’re kind of choking me—”

False released Ren from her tight bear hug. “Oops, sorry,” she grinned sheepishly. “Got a little over-excited.”

“Oh, har har. I didn’t—I didn’t know you would be so happy.”

False stared at Ren like he had grown a wolf tail (now False thought about it, that wouldn’t be very surprising). “Ren, you’re my _friend._ Why won’t I be overjoyed?”

Ren cleared his throat. “Yeah. Umm. Just some stupid insecurity,” he muttered. “It’s okay now.”

It felt like a heavy weight had been taken off False’s shoulders. Joining the Championship sure was scary, but now that Ren was here, it suddenly didn’t seem as scary as before. So long she had her friends, False was sure she would be okay. 

“We’ve got so much to do!” False exclaimed, pacing back and forth, her eyes alight with excitement. “We’ve go to find two other teammates, and organize practice sessions, and—”

Ren threw his head back and cackled. “We’re Rendog and FalseSymmetry! We’re comin’ for ya!” he roared. “Prepare yourselves, ‘cause we’ll beat your butts up!”

* * *

False found Fwhip, one of her old friends from the main campus. Fwhip was one of the few main campus students that False still had good relations with after her demotion. Fwhip was also in the Legacy friend group along with Skizzleman (Impulse’s best friend for like a decade), ZloyXP (another good friend who was such a mega fan of the hermits he even made documentaries about them along with Pixlriffs), and Pearl (Grian’s friend). Python, another Legacy member, was part of the Kingdomcraft gang in their first year, and was nearly demoted to 3-H, but made it out. Quite a lot of Legacy members were close with the hermits due to their shared love for crafter and designing.

“3-GH solidarity!” Fwhip cheered. “LET’S GOOO!”

The trio were joined by Katherine, who had been in previous Championships. Katherine was the only teammate who had actually participated in the old Championships, so they were all kind of relying on her. Katherine was in the X Life group, which included Fwhip, Dang, Shubble, Joel, and Joel’s partner Lizzie. Surprisingly, HBomb was also part of X Life before, but all False heard now was how he was part of the Dream Gang (probably because of the clout). 

“We crafters stick together!” Ren declared. “But thanks for teaming with us hermits. You know how everyone hates us.”

Fwhip lowered his voice, “To be honest, most of my friends like the hermits. Everyone stans Etho. It’s just that Stan Twitt makes it seem like you guys are irrelevant.”

“Yeah, Stan Twitt is so weird!” Katherine chimed in. “I don’t know why Dream’s friends get most of the attention, when the crafters’ community is way larger.”

“Exactly! That’s why we’re gonna overthrow Stan Twitt’s system,” False vowed.

The countdown to the 4th Championship was starting. False shivered, suddenly nervous upon seeing all the PvPers next to her. They were terrifying, but Dang aka. Scott’s cousin still was the most terrifying because he looked completely identical to Scott. The four crafters had practiced, but they were probably nowhere near those who had practised their entire lives. 

“You good, Falsie?”

False spun to look at Ren. “If it’s too scary, we can just aim for having fun this time,” Ren said cheerfully. 

“Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. It’s too unrealistic to expect that we’ll get a good ranking first time.” False took a deep breath. So long had she waited for this day, standing on the sidelines, desperate for the chance to redeem herself and the hermits. Now that she was actually in the Championship Arena, she could hardly believe her eyes. Good thing she had her friends with her, in particular Ren. He was her neighbour, her friend, a hermit, and now her teammate. Ren was always a constant in her life, and False hoped it would be this way.

False took out her phone. “Hey Ren, let’s take photos!”

The duo shifted closer and the phone’s camera flashed. Their matching smiles were now frozen in time. False happily hummed to herself as she saved the photo.

This was just one of the many they would take. After all, they would only join the Championships if they had each other. 

Later, they would be known as Renpog and False Supremacy, but for now, they were just Ren and False. Ren and False against Stan Twitt and the entire world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cherrybomb: is nice to False  
> False: ???? How am I?? Supposed to function???
> 
> We'll get more angst later, don't worry UwU. This was supposed to be a chapter with MCC4-7 but it got too long lol. Writing Stan Twitt has made me use UwU unironically. Or maybe it's due to Catmaid H's influence. Please imagine Stan Twitt using H's maid voice. It's not canon in Battle Scars, but it's hilariously awful. Maybe Stan is H's evil clone.
> 
> Scott is the hermits' teacher because irl Scott invited the hermits to MCC. In this fic, he encourages the hermits to join the Championship, so he's the supportive figure to the hermits UwU.
> 
> POGSUPREMACY!! Also thanks for the kudos and comments! Appreciate y'all! Hope you all have a wonderful 2021, and Happy New Year! :D
> 
> (Comments feed me ajbsalkvshalgskas-)


	6. Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> False and Ren participate in the 4th Championship, the hermits meet Herman Blur, Cub and Iskall join Ren and False in the 5th Championship, Bdubs attempts murder, Fruitberries continues to be the hermits' patron saint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not seriously watch MCC4-7, so most of this isn’t... exactly accurate to what happened irl. I’m only putting down what I think they’ll say combined with my vague memories of the MCCs lol. It’s too tiring to go through every VOD.
> 
> Things I am pretty sure happened: False going over to Ren to "cheer him up" because he "looked lonely" in MCC5, the hermit team "bullying" Fwhip in MCC5.
> 
> BIG SHOUTOUT TO IVI for helping me soo much with the minigames and worldbuilding! Seriously she’s so good at this. She came up with the Rocket Spleef idea lol (you’ll see in a second.)

_What is this wave of nervousness? It’s proof of our existence_

_It surges as we look up into the moon_

_Let’s get this over with!_

* * *

Like any other Championships, the 4th Championship started with all teams voting in the Decision Dome. The votes were digital and power ups would be randomly given to teams to interfere with the voting. Sometimes, a school-wide audience vote would be conducted to decide the game, which were often rumoured to be rigged by Stan Twitt (which they vehemently denied, but no one believed Stan). 

Their first game was Skyblockle, which mainly consisted of teams starting out on tiny islands and using ropes to build bridges across islands and collect equipment. Players would wear special suits with lights on their chestplate to indicate how much “health” they had. If their health was all gone, they would be eliminated. Weapons included the typical sword and axe (all blunted, of course), BB guns, and rubber knives. “Health” could be recovered by placing “food” on the suit, which were colourful, one-use magnetic stickers. “Food” such as “bread” recovered a small portion of health, but special foods such as the “golden apple” temporarily reduced the damage you would take. False knew that because she had an extensive list of all the “foods” listed down. A first aid team always stood by the side in case someone got hurt. 

Each participant had an ear radio and microphone so they could talk with their teammates even if they were far away. It was also how the Championship Commentator would announce eliminations, game changes, and other information. 

“So much high tech has gone into making this Championship,” Ren praised. “Really appreciate Noxcrew and Noxite.”

Skyblockle was a very PvP intensive game, and False knew they weren’t going to do well. Still, she didn’t expect Tommy to knock out three of her teammates and be the first team eliminated. Before she knew it, False had landed on the trampoline, known as “The Void”, that covered the entire floor of the Skyblockle arena.

“Ouch, that hurt. One guy eliminated all three of us,” Ren moaned, massaging his back. 

“Hey… at least we got this game out early? When the multiplier’s low?” False offered.

The next game, Build Mart, was a sigh of relief. Finally, it was something they were familiar with. Players had to run around a “supermarket” and collect palm-sized blocks from different areas, then run back to their workbenches and assemble a “build” according to the model that was provided. They did pretty well (for their standards) and got 4th.

“I mean, we _are_ crafters,” Fwhip announced proudly. “We literally do this all the time.”

Survival Games was chosen next, and the four of them started rubbing their hands, adrenaline pumping through their veins. “This is what we’ve been training for,” Ren declared. “We’re good at surviving, aren’t we?”

False laughed. “We survived 3-H and this school. I think we’re pretty good,” she joked. 

Survival Games was the only game without an arena, as the entire school would be the battleground. Everyone had to wait fifteen minutes for the staff and teachers to quickly set up loot chests (“No, you can’t bribe them! Shame on you.”). The center of the campus would be the “spawn”, and red lasers would mark out the border of the battleground, which would shrink periodically. They were told the lasers were only for the visual effect and wouldn’t hurt you (unless you directly stared at them and burned your eyes), and would only reduce your “virtual health”. In addition to normal chests, eliminated players had to drop their equipment on the ground for others to pick up. There were also “airdrops”, or special equipment that occasionally descended from the sky via drones. 

Ren nudged False. “Falsie, it’s time for your PvP skills to shine!”

False flushed. “What do you mean? I’m not very good compared to these people.”

“I know you were in 2-B!” Katherine laughed. “You’re _good_ at this, False!”

False subconsciously hid behind Ren. “I’m-I’m gonna let you guys down,” she laughed.

Despite that, False somehow led her team in Survival Games. She instructed everyone to run away from spawn and loot chests for equipment, which not only included armour, weapons, food stickers, but also real food and water (since the game would last a while).

“Oh look, that’s the red laser border!” Katherine pointed at the sky. “We should stay away.”

Ren panted and he leaned against a wall. “Yeah, we should. Man, I’m getting thirsty. Anyone have water?”

“Wait, I found something.” False rummaged through a chest. “Two bottles of water, three packets of crackers, a few food stickers, plus an airgun? This is nice. Ooh, here’s a chestplate for you, Fwhip.”

False tossed the supplies at her teammates, and gulped down some water, the cool liquid soothing her throat. “Alright guys, we’ve got to keep running.”

“We should try to enchant our gear, right?” Ren said. 

“Totally. Does anyone have any “books”?” False asked. “We need to find anvils, and let it scan the book and the weapon at the same time for it to be enchanted.”

Fwhip chuckled. “You sure did your research, False.”

False allowed herself to be a little smug. “Yeah, I did. I tried my best to prepare.”

The four of them stuck close and ran up stairs to “get the high ground” (“Falsie, maybe we can defeat them with the power of memes.” “I sure hope so, Ren.”). Ren briefly got lost, and False had to find him.

“How did you even get separated?” False demanded, dragging Ren behind her. “I stop looking for a moment and you’re gone!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault these cobblestone corridors look exactly the same!” Ren defended himself.

“He’s got a point,” Fwhip quipped.

False sighed. “Yeah, I know. This school is so ugly.”

Thanks to escaping and running away from everyone and cleverly choosing when to take risks, the team did decently and even got 4th in Survival Games. Getting beat up by PvPers was pretty painful, but at least their virtual health decreased quickly and saved them from extra agony. At one point, False was the only teammate surviving and was eliminated by Technoblade. Once her health had completely decreased, Techno stopped hitting her and quickly moved on. He didn’t give her a second glance. False stumbled to her feet and rubbed her bruised legs. Technoblade was as strong and as terrifying as the rumours said he were. _Blood for the Blood God,_ False thought. 

“False!” Katherine called from the sidelines. “Remember to drop your items!”

“Oops, sorry.” False turned her bag over and allowed the bottle of water and her food stickers to fall out. She hurried towards her eliminated teammates.

“False, you good?” Katherine called out worriedly. “The Blood God got you!”

“He’s an efficient PvPer,” False muttered, checking herself for any wounds. “He didn’t deal any unnecessary damage— hey, where’s Ren?”

Fwhip and Katherine exchanged looks. Dread crept into False’s heart. “Don’t tell me he’s—”

False glimpsed a familiar figure sitting outside the first aid tents. “Th-that’s Ren! Oh goodness, what happened?!”

“It’s just a scratch—” Fwhip told her, but False was not listening. She dashed towards the first aid tents, or at least as fast as she could with pain throbbing from her legs.

Ren was sitting on one of those plastic chairs, someone tending to his cheek. “Hey Falsie!” he managed to grin. “I’m okay! Just fell down and scratched my cheek. No big deal.”

False breathed a sigh of relief. “Take care, Ren.”

“Will do.” Ren flashed her a thumbs up. “I’ll have this bandage on for quite some time. Like the battle scar on your cheek. We’re matching now.”

False instinctively rubbed a thumb across the scar on her cheek. It served as a physical reminder of why she was in 3-H and what she stood for.

… Yes, False wanted to win. She wanted to get back into the main campus. But friendship was always more important.

So False hugged Ren. “I’m glad it was just a scratch,” she whispered.

* * *

To Get To The Other Side and Whack a Fan was chosen next. (The fans were literally the electronic appliances fans. Scott sure loved his puns.) The aim was simple: to get to the other side whether by using ropes for bridging, or via parkour, or climbing up ladders.

“They added zip lines this Championship,” False told them (she had watched all of the update videos.) 

Ren’s face lit up. “Yeah, I saw. Zip lines should be our thing, Falsie. We installed so many of them in the forest next to our classroom so we can transport resources quicker.”

Katherine shot them a look. “Aren’t those expensive?”

Fwhip laughed. “Katherine, the hermits are _rich._ I know some of them have jobs at Mojang, and they gain revenue from making videos and films.”

Thankfully for the hermits, the zip lines also appeared in the next game— Rocket Spleef.

In Rocket Spleef, there were many small platforms with zip lines connecting to each other. Everyone’s clasp could be opened by a magnet that everybody had, so if you got close enough to somebody, you could open their clasp and eliminate them. Everybody had a safety line so they wouldn’t fall and die (Scott was careful to make sure of that. There was even a safety net at the bottom). Speed was essential, because people could catch you quickly and you could crash with someone on the same zip line. And if you got too low, you had no way up and would be eliminated. Each platform had a special line that could be activated once for the entire round, which would bring you to the top and let you descend again. One a certain amount of time had passed, random zip lines would start getting blocked, resulting in fewer and fewer zip lines for the participants. 

False, to everyone but her team’s surprise, survived all three rounds of Rocket Spleef. She expertly zipped to platforms and elegantly landed, unlike some of her opponents who just slammed into the platforms. It boosted their morale a lot, until one incident during the third round.

“False! Help!”

False spun to see Katherine on one of the lower platforms, someone rushing towards her. False instantly zipped towards Katherine, but she was too late.

“Hello Katherine!” Tommy bellowed, then used his magnet to unclasp Katherine’s clasp. “ ** _JUST KILLED A WOMAN, FEELING GOOD!_** ” He shouted in glee as Katherine plummeted.

“He’s so loud,” False muttered under her breath. Next to her ear, the Commentator boomed “ _Katherineeliz was killed by TommyInnit!_ ”.

Rocket Spleef wasn’t without mishaps, though. False accidentally eliminated Fwhip one time. “Sorry!” She yelled. “I didn’t mean it!”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Fwhip chuckled. 

The next game was Battle Box, which was straightforward. Teams would battle each other and fill up in the “box” in the middle with cubes of their team’s colour. The first team to fill up the entire box with their colour would win. There were nine rounds, and they had to battle all teams, which was what scared False a little. They won a few more rounds than everyone expected them to, which already satisfied them.

Hole in the Wall was chosen next. Participants would stand on an elevated platform as differently shaped sponge walls came in from all four sides. If they were knocked off (and landed on the trampoline), they would be eliminated. 

“I have the advantage here,” Ren joked, “because I’m short!”

“You have to be fast though,” False told him. “I’ve heard of people crawling through holes they’re not supposed to get through, but I don’t know how to do that.”

Katherine performed the best out of the four, probably because she had experience.

“Oww!” False yelped as one of the sponge walls hit her head, and she was knocked off. She bounced on the trampoline and she fought to regain her balance. 

“False! You alright?”

“Thanks.” False gripped Ren’s outstretched hand without hesitation (she was reminded of H who did the same thing when she fell down during parkour practice). 

“Ren! False!”

The hermits’ eyes lit up. “Mr. Major!”

“How are the games so far?” Scott, who was standing on the sidelines, waved at them. “Anything you want to change?”

False rubbed her head. “Well, uh, maybe make the sponge walls softer?”

“Will do. Herman, please put that down for me.”

It was then when they noticed there was a stranger standing next to Scott. The “Herman” person didn’t look… quite human. That was a polite way of putting it. Curly horns protruded from their head. Most noticeable of all were the giant feathered wings on their back. Herman saw the hermits looking at them, and grinned at them. 

“Uhh, who’s that?” Ren asked.

“Someone who likes cosplaying,” Scott told him. “You’ll meet him soon enough. For now, focus on the Championship!”

The final game was Parkour Warrior, which was everyone’s least favourite game. Or at least that was what False thought. (“How does Build Mart get more hate than Parkour Warrior?!” “I know right! Stan Twitt’s influence is so annoying.”)

It was frustrating seeing people effortlessly jump past them. False groaned as she fell down again and again. Sweat dripped from her face. Every muscle of hers was exhausted. They had gotten through seven games, and it didn’t help that False struggled with parkour the most. Morale was slightly dropping, and it was because they had no way of getting in Dodgebolt.

… They still had fun, though. And that was enough for False. Just for _now._

Because she knew she would never be satisfied until she got into Dodgebolt. 

_I’ll get there,_ False promised herself. _I’ll make them all look at me one day._

* * *

They got 7th, which wasn’t bad, considering they were all crafters. Tommy, Techno, Wilbur and Philza won the 4th Championship, which was a little sad as they were supporting Vikk and Pete’s team in Dodgebolt.

“Look at the Protagonist Armour,” Katherine sighed. “Stan Twitt is so happy. I think they’re all in the Student Council.”

“Aren’t they like, a roleplay family or something?” Fwhip asked. “People call them the Sleepy Bois Inc. I literally have no idea where that name came from.”

“A roleplay family,” Ren chortled. “That’s cute. Our entire class is also a family.”

“Yeah, TFC calls us a ‘great big psychotic dysfunctional family’. It fits.”

“UWU SBI WON!!” Stan Twitt screeched, hugging each of the team members. Tommy looked like he was about to swear. “Techno-senpai! Philza Minecraft! UwU!”

“Let’s get out before our ears bleed,” Fwhip deadpanned. The Yellow Yaks made a speedy exit.

“That was really fun!” Ren whooped. “Let’s do this again!”

“Ohh, you bet!” False replied with a grin. “I’m not stopping!”

Championships happened on Fridays. False and Ren rested well for the weekend, and returned to school, now energised. The class knew they were in the Championships, and quite a number of them had enthusiastically cheered for them. Cub in particular had used the drones to film the entire Championship, and gave Ren and False the footage so they could learn from their mistakes.

A surprising number of hermits were morning people, and most of them arrived at school an hour before it started (it was because the school gave them creative freedom and they liked being with their friends). False glanced around the classroom, which was a colossal mess of a rustic house, a glass aquarium, a llama pen, a water pool, and filled with hundreds of weird trinkets that False couldn’t name. Bdubs was scolding Scar for staying up late again (Bdubs was the only person who slept the instant the sun set). Etho was cheerfully thumping on some noteblocks and recording music. Cub looked like he was making a very important phone call. 

“OHHHH MY GOODNESS!”

Grian rushed into their classroom, cheeks rosy with excitement.

“What’s up?” Mumbo casually asked. “Did you get another job offer again?”

“NOO! It’s Fruity B!” Grian screamed, jumping up and down. “He and Illumina got the world record for co-op speedrunning! I stayed up till 3am rewatching their streams!! They’re so cool!”

“Speedrunning?”

“Wait, isn’t that the Naruto running thing that Etho does?”

Etho stopped playing his noteblock music. “I may look like Kakashi, but I’m not connected to Naruto running.”

“You guys don’t know what speedrunning is?” Grian demanded. “How… _blasphemous_!”

“You didn’t know until Fruit started speedrunning,” Iskall pointed out. “But I mean, big mood. Fruitberries is our patron saint.”

“Hermits, settle down, settle down.”

Upon hearing Scott’s voice, the hermits instantly quieted down. They could quite easily overpower him and ignore him, but they liked Scott, so they were nice to him. (Scott was grateful for that. The hermits were already feral even when they were being nice. Who knew what crazy stuff they would do if they were properly angry.)

“Good morning everyone!” Scott greeted them all cheerfully. “Today we’ll have a simple essay test on the history of Minecraft which you’ll definitely ace. I don’t know why I’m giving out this test. Maybe I just want you guys to all get good grades. Also Cub, I appreciate you so much but _please do not write me an 10k word essay this time._ I loved reading it, but marking it is another thing. You’re welcome to send me anything outside of school though.”

“Cool!” Cub cheered. “I’m working on an essay about taxes in Ancient Egypt. It has 8k words now.”

“Fantastic!” Scott’s enthusiasm was unaffected. “So umm hermits, lately I’ve been getting a little busy with organizing Championships and teaching you all. And I really hate neglecting you even though you all do fine without me. So, I’ve hired a teaching assistant! Hermits, meet Herman Blur.”

Herman Blur stepped in. False noticed that they looked different from the last time they saw them. Today, Herman had vex wings, werewolf ears, and a cowboy hat.

“Hey hermits!” Herman Blur said. “Nice to meet you all! I’ve heard so much about you from Scott, and I’m a huge fan.” He noticed everyone was staring at his wings. “Oh don’t mind these, I like cosplaying as nonhumans. Humans are boring.”

“They sure are!” Grian chimed in. All eyes stared at him. “Whoops, I just exposed my true identity as a multi-dimensional god. Guess I wasn’t _watching_ myself. Just kidding. I would’ve blown the school up if I was a god.”

“Oh, you would,” all the hermits and Scott muttered in unison. 

“Anyways, I hope you get along with Herman Blur!” Scott said. “He’s a great artist, so I think you guys will vibe really well.”

Everybody did, in fact, like Herman Blur a lot. Grian excitedly asked for multiple eyes to be tattooed to his face, and Scar asked if he could get a copy of the vex wings. Herman also drew the 3-H classroom because he liked it so much, and the hermits framed it and placed it smack dab in the middle of the wall. 

“I don’t think anyone outside of our small circle has appreciated our art so much,” Xisuma confessed. “Well, other than the companies that keep on offering us jobs.”

“You guys deserve all goodness in the world!” Herman Blur told them. “I just feel really inspired by you all.”

And for two weeks after the 4th Championship, Ren and False returned to their peaceful daily life in 3-H (they said it was peaceful, and it _was_ peaceful even with the pranks and wars and explosions. At least they weren’t getting beaten up by PvPers.). But soon, sign ups for the 5th Championship began. Iskall told False she would join so they just needed one more person. And False knew who to ask.

“Cub? You busy?”

“Not really.” Cub was polishing one of his many drones. “What brings you here, False?”

Ever since the 4th Championship, False had gotten a little braver. “I was wondering if you'd like to join the 5th Championship with us? Ren, Iskall and I are going.”

False had always asked Cub to play minigames with her even during their second year. Cub was funny, witty, and a pretty smart guy. Not to mention he was one of the most hardworking of the hermits, and that was saying _a lot_ because they were all hardworking. And Cub was the one who lent her his drones, and probably knew at least a bit about the Championship.

Cub perked up. “Sure! I’ll like to join. I want to try something new, and I’m tired of the main campus invalidating our hard work.”

“Great!” False stretched out a hand, and Cub took it. “Welcome on board!”

… And it was as simple as that. The first whole hermit team in the Championships was formed. And Scott couldn’t be more proud.

“HERMITCRAFTERS IN THE CHAMPIONSHIP!” Herman Blur hooted. “I believe in you guys!”

“We’ve got to prove Stan Twitt wrong!” Ren was determined. “Ooh baby, victory is ours!”

False led the team in joining gruelling practice sessions. While False had a fun time with Ren, Fwhip, and Katherine, there was nothing like practicing with close friends she had known for two years. Conservation just flowed ten times easier. False laughed so much she wouldn’t be surprised if she grew abs. 

The night before the 5th Championship, they ended their practice early so they could watch the sunset together. And underneath the twilight sky, their faces tired yet happy, they put their hands together and cheered.

_“Let’s go, hermits!”_

* * *

_We can’t stand still because we’re not done_

_It’s easy to say it’s all futile and give up_

_but now, I want to fight it_

**_I want to have a blast with you!_ **

* * *

False had no idea where Cub and Iskall were. There was still half an hour before the 5th Championship started, and the hermits had already set up an elaborate cheering squad. First of all was a gigantic green flashing sign that said “HERMIT SUPREMACY!!”. Grian had used some of the money from his job to buy everybody a gong, leading them to nickname their team as the “Gong Guardians”. While everybody else had flags and pom-poms, the hermits had that and electronic signs and confetti. They clearly stood out, and False could feel the main campus students getting pissed off and jealous. 

False could see Ren sitting in the pool outside the arena all by himself. Seeing that he looked lonely, she made her way towards him to cheer him up. She sat down next to him on the pink floatie, which made squeaky sounds.

“Hi, Falsie. Iskall and Cub just _abandoned_ us,” Ren said in a scandalous tone. 

False laughed, and patted Ren’s shoulder. “There, there.”

They sat on the pink floatie for a while, then made their way to the stairs below the giant countdown timer. They took a few pictures, met up with Iskall and Cub, and even saw Fwhip, who was on a different team this time. 

“Get out!” Iskall jokingly told him as he nudged Fwhip away.

“You’re so mean, dude,” Ren laughed. “He’s still our old teammate.”

“Aww come on, I just wanted to say hi,” Fwhip whined. “I’m unsubbing. Unstan the hermits.”

“Stop bullying Fwhip!” False scolded Iskall. “The Championship’s starting in two minutes. We need to think of our strategy.”

Iskall sighed. “Not gonna lie, I’m so nervous now. I’m scared I won’t know anything despite the tips you gave me.”

“Deep breath, Iskall,” Cub told him. “Relax, and have fun. It’s the most important thing.”

“Yes,” Ren chimed in. “And winning, of course.”

“True. The most important thing is winning,” Iskall repeated. 

“Yeah, yeah.” False had to join in. 

Cub shrugged. “Alright! It’s pretty simple then. Just go pro, and win.”

“If only it was that simple.”

Survival Games was the first game played, and with experience from last time, the hermits did decently. They got fourth, even with two hermit newcomers. But the real challenge was the next game, which was one nobody had played before— Sands of Time.

Sands of Time was one of the few games with a custom arena that would be changed every time. It was set in a maze with traps and coins for players to collect. Vaults and the corresponding keys to open them were scattered throughout the maze. In the center of the maze was a timer, and time could be added by tossing pouches of sand at it. If time ran out, the entire team would be locked inside the maze and would not gain any points. They could “bank” their coins, but a small fee would be taken.

In the end, the hermits were locked in, with Ren managing to only bank sixty coins for them, which with the coin multiplier gave them ninety points, allowing them to keep their 4th place.

Iskall and Cub were honestly great additions to the hermit team. After the final game was played, Iskall got 17th, which was the highest individual placement any hermit had gotten so far. Iskall, despite being a newcomer, made it to the top half of the participants. And as a team they placed sixth, which was a rank higher than last time. 

“We’re improving, dudes!” Ren whooped. “Slowing inching up the leaderboard!”

“Ohhh yeah! We’re the cream of the crop, boys.” Cub looked proud despite the bruises on his face.

“Yeahh! Let’s have a pizza dinner to celebrate our 6th place!” False suggested. She shifted her weight to the leg that had been injured, and winced. “My treat.”

Iskall chuckled. “We should use Grian’s wallet. He’s so freaking rich right now.”

“Nah, he just bought gongs for all the hermits. Let’s not use more of his money.”

The four hermits cheerfully chatted as they made their way to the audience stands to find their friends. No doubt they were ecstatic even if they didn’t get into the top two teams. The hermits were supportive like that.

But when they got there, they couldn’t hear any sound at all. Concerned, they rushed forward, only to find their hermit friends standing next to a damaged neon sign, several main campus students next to them.

“It’s cute how much effort you put in this.” One the main campus students kicked the neon sign. “Too bad the hermits will never come top half as a team.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” Bdubs screamed, a mad glint in his eyes. He suddenly ripped off his shirt, revealing a belt of knives. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Bdubs!” Cleo chastised, sounding cross. “Don’t stab people! Use potions instead, it’s easier to clean up—“

“Bdoubleo, a Mindcracker fallen from grace,” the bully sneered. He raised a hand—

Only to be stopped by a metal arm. “Ohoho,” Doc ominously cackled, voice deep and rumbling. “You don’t want to mess with us Mindcrackers, kid.”

“Okay Bdubs! Don’t get yourself in danger!” Scar wrapped his arms around Bdubs’ chest. “Let’s go home and properly plan a murder—“

“You’re annoying. Shut up.”

Scar was flung across the area and slammed into the railing. Cub screamed and sprinted towards Scar. Iskall and Ren stepped in front of Scar protectively, while False took out bandages from her bag just in case. 

“Did you break anything? Are you bleeding?” Cub demanded, tenderly helping Scar up. 

“I-I’mma fine,” Scar choked out, but everyone could see the trickle of blood from his forehead. Cub turned pale. False passed Cub the bandages and readied her fists despite every cell of her body protesting in exhaustion.

“That was unacceptable. Get on your knees and apologise,” Iskall commanded, his usual jovial composition completely vanished.

“What makes you think you can order us around? You’re nothing to us, Mr. Seventeenth Place.”

The bullies attacked again, but they were stopped by a yell. “Causing trouble again?”

Fruitberries strode in, hands stuck in his pockets. His stance was seemingly casual, but False could see that his muscles were tense. Fruit was ready to fight.

“How many times have I told you not to bully people?” Fruit said calmly. “But apparently words can’t make their way through your thick skulls.”

“You only speak one language, and it’s a crude, barbaric, uncivilised one— violence,” Ren growled. Trust him to use fancy words to defend his friends. 

Fruit nodded at Ren, acknowledging him. “And it’s a language I speak rather well.”

It took Fruit just three seconds to annihilate all of the bullies with swift kicks and punches. They didn’t even have a chance to retaliate. Fruit was simply too fast, and he was too calm. He had no battle cries, no dramatic moves. He was a silent killer. All of the hermits gaped. After Fruit swiftly dispatched everyone, he nonchalantly stuffed his hands back in his pockets like nothing had happened.

“You’ll pay for this!” One of them screamed, rolling around the floor in pain. 

“Ohh, will I?” Fruit replied smugly. “The school turned a blind eye when you hurt the hermits last time. Surely they won’t care if a Green God steps slightly out of line. Privilege is real. Now scram.”

“Get outta here!” Bdubs started crying out. “ ** _Get outta here!!”_** All hermits instantly joined in booing, raising their fists.

The bullies stumbled to their feet, prides wounded. But before they could escape from the hermits’ warth, a compacted ball of something sailed through the air and erupted, dousing the bullies with obnoxiously pink glitter.

“AHA! Try to wash _that_ out!” Stress declared. “Now everyone will know what you’ve done! Bye, losers!”

The hermits quickly tended to Scar’s wounds and thought of what to say to Grian once he returned from his important business phone call (“he would be pissed that he missed seeing Fruit”). Iskall congratulated Stress on her glitter bomb. Doc, Bdubs, and Cleo were eagerly discussing what was the best way to murder someone. And Cub never left Scar’s side.

Only two hermits thought of thanking Fruit.

But yet again, when Ren and False turned around, Fruit had already slipped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be one long chapter with a “quick recap” of MCC4-7... so yeah. It got split up. Into three chunks. Help me. I’m getting too invested in this AU. And I’m supposed to be focusing on MCC9, smh.
> 
> Also yeah, Fruit finally beats up the bullies lmao. Sorry if this was a bit of a worldbuilding chapter ;-; we’re gonna get more stuff in the next one ohohoh. And y'all met Herman Blur this chapter UwU (he’s Hermitblr lmao)
> 
> This features lyrics from Assassination Classroom’s first opening. I think the translated name is something like “Young People’s Discourse on Bloodthirst” or something. All the AssClass OPs suit the Blue Bats narrative, not gonna lie.
> 
> Ask me anything on @riacte! Thank you for the wonderful comments <33 they mean so much to me!


	7. And Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren finally talks to Fruit, Grian and Fruit join the 6th Championship, Grian casually kills Dream for the first time in Survival Games, bad things happens to the hermits, it's Cub's turn to attempt murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for: blood, bullying, panic attack. Also one f-bomb here (now I really hope HBomb's evil alter ego is called FBomb). Guess who used the word? :P

_We can’t stand still because we’re not done_

_We start off whispering about overthrowing the status quo_

_but soon enough we’ll feel like crying out, “ARGH!”_

* * *

“Let’s try again,” Ren told False the instant Scott announced the 6th Championship. “You in?”

“Did you even have to ask?” was False’s curt reply.

Their wounds from the 5th Championship had barely started to heal, but the hermits were ready to thrust themselves in the world of PvP again. 

Still, they didn’t neglect their artistic hobbies and their studies (which they were all fantastic at, by the way).

“When Stanley approached the end of the video, he clicked the subscribe button,” False said out loud, recording her usual outro. She switched off her mic and picked up her things.

“Hi! Watcha doing?”

False nodded at Ren. “I just finished recording an episode, now I need to go home and edit it.”

“Sweet! See you tomorrow!”

Ren waved at False until she went out of sight. With a sigh, he looked at the tiny ugly cobblestone main campus in the distance, which looked tinier than ever now that their classroom was exponentially growing in size. 

Ren knew out of all the hermits in the Championship, he was probably the least skilled in PvP. He even called himself the “weak link” in the 5th Championship, but his friends were quick to reassure him they would not play without him. Thanks to Scott and support from his friends, his insecurity had lessened, but he still wanted to improve himself so as not to drag the team down.

That was why he made his way down to the main campus alone to practice. Ren felt like he needed the extra practice. And he didn’t want to use anybody’s precious free time. He was fine by himself.

The main campus _was_ a little intimidating without his friends, but Ren put on earphones, started blasting Britney Spears, numbed his nervousness, and worked away. Britney had always managed to hype him up 

_“My loneliness is killing me,”_ Ren sang to himself as he punched sandbags. “ _I must confess, I still believe!”_ Pain erupted from his knuckles, but he knew the pain was necessary. He punctuated each beat with a punch. _“When I’m not with you I lose my mind… give me a sign! **Hit me baby one more time!** ”_

“Nice voice!”

“Huh?” A surprised Ren hastily took out his earphones. “Oh. Umm. Thanks,” he muttered, a little embarrassed.

Ren watched as H sauntered away like giving compliments was an everyday thing for him (which it probably was). H probably knew he was in 3-H, right? So why was he nice to the hermits? According to False, H didn’t laugh at her or anything when he found out she was a hermit. Huh.

Ren also saw Herman Blur talking to another new teacher Cherry Twitt. They seemed to be getting along fine for some reason. Cherry Twitt may share a surname with Stan Twitt, but those two were totally different.

Thirty minutes of hard work later, Ren decided he needed a break. A thirsty Ren grabbed his water bottle and went to the water fountain to fill it up. A familiar flash of green came into Ren’s view, and he blinked. It was the elusive Fruitberries. Ren was intimidated, but he wasn’t going to let Fruit run away again. He put on a confident facade, stepped forward, and said,

“Hi.”

Fruit looked at him, mildly surprised that someone was talking to him. “Hi,” he said after a brief pause.

“So, uhh, I don’t know if you know me, but as a hermit, I really want to thank you for standing up for us,” Ren said sincerely. “Like you defended Jevin in the 1st Championship, and you also beat up those guys who destroyed our neon sign in the 5th Championship.”

“Oh.” Fruit looked embarrassed. “No need to thank me, I was just doing what I was supposed to do. And I didn’t know it was the hermits who were being bullied last time— I just thought those students were causing trouble again. I saw that your friend was hurt. Sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Ren stared at him. “Ah.” So Fruit stood up for the hermits without even knowing they were hermits? So he wasn’t doing it just to get on the hermits’ good side? He was doing it because he was...nice?

“Why are you nice to us?” Ren couldn’t help but ask.

“I dunno, I won’t say I’m being _nice,_ I’m just…” Fruit waved his hands, “like I said, doing what I should do. But if you’re asking, I don’t believe in Stan Twitt’s system. The hermits have done nothing wrong. By the way, you were in the Championship, yeah? I always see you with the Banana Girl.”

Ren chuckled. “Yeah, I’m Ren. And she’s False.”

Fruit nodded. “I see, I see. Good luck for the Championships! I’m going to join the next one, and it’ll be pretty cool to see more hermits there. Upsetting Stan Twitt is fun.”

They exchanged a few more niceties, then Ren, who was internally panicking from speaking to _the_ Fruitberries, experienced a brain fart and forgot Fruit’s name. “Bye, Fruityloops,” he blurted out, and parted ways with him.

“Fruityloops,” Fruit repeated to himself once Ren was out of earshot. He laughed, charmed by Ren. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

* * *

“Grian, will you join the 6th Championship?”

“Uhh?” Grian looked up at Cub. “Probably not, I’m busy, and—“

“HEY G!” Ren yelled, running into the classroom. “FRUITYLOOPS TOLD ME HE’S JOINING!”

Grian broke a table. “ ** _FRUITY B?!_** ” he screeched. “Sign me up! I’m totally joining! I don’t care about my schedule! Woohoo!”

“Gee! Thanks!” Cub looked amused yet annoyed. 

“Do you think I can be in the same team as him?” Grian asked, eyes glittering. He bounced over to Scott. “Mr. Major!” He sang cheerfully. “Can you put me and Fruity B together?”

Scott smiled gently at Grian. “I’m really sorry, but Fruit has already submitted a team with the 3-A and 3-B people.”

Grian instantly deflated, and he looked like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road. “Oh. Oh well,” he sniffed. “At least I can see him in the Championship, right? Do you think I can ask for his autograph?”

“Fruity is notoriously hard to catch, though,” Ren laughed. “He’s always running away for some reason.”

* * *

Cub returned for the 6th Championship with False and Ren. They were joined by Ryguyrocky, who was a nice main campus student from 3-C. Grian was in another team with Dang, Shubble, and Pearl. Iskall was originally supposed to go with him, but he suddenly had something to do, so Grian invited Pearl.

Grian excitedly showed his hermit friends the cyan ribbon either Scott or Dang had tied around his head. “It’s so weird teaming up with Dang,” Grian said. “I-I literally can’t tell them apart. I don’t even know who gave me this ribbon.”

Cub was still extremely pissed off by the bullies who had hurt Scar and his hermits last Championship, so he wanted to perform well in this Championship. Their team had trained really hard for the Championship, and Cub had spent nights analyzing the footage of their past Championships. He also spent a few days working on something with Doc. Cub patted his pocket. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it today.

“Both Dream and George are here,” Cub noted. “And of course Techno. The clout, man.”

“Clout Resistance!” Ren cried out. “Stan Twitt is so biased towards them.”

“Everyone’s thinking Techno or Dream’s team is gonna win,” False pointed out. “That’s what Professor Reddit is saying, after having collected opinions from students.”

“Ahhh yes, Professor Micheal C Reddit,” Cub sighed. “Everybody’s biased. I hope we get to upset MCC Reddit one day.”

“Upsetting Reddit and Stan Twitt is my _dream_ ,” False told them. “I’m sure we’ll get there one day!”

* * *

Grian was a little nervous that he wasn’t with the hermits, but he had friends whom he’d known for a long time. Pearl, Dang and Shubble were also extremely nice and welcoming, and they didn’t mind that Grian was a hermit. The four of them spent a few minutes furiously ranting about Stan Twitt, and had a good laugh in the end.

“Ohh, Survival Games is the second minigame!” Dang exclaimed. “This is going to be a tiring one since we gotta walk around the school.”

“So I’ve heard from the hermits.” Grian nodded towards the Yellow Yaks which were a few paces from them. “Our strategy is to run away, right?”

“Yeah, and go for stragglers and do some cleaning up,” Shubble told him. She rubbed her hands together. “Alright team! We got this!”

Shubble’s optimism was infections, and Grian couldn’t help but smile. Next to him, Pearl sat there quietly. Grian felt kinda bad— after all, he was the one who invited her last-minute when Iskall couldn’t make it. 

“Having fun so far?”

Pearl looked up and smiled. “Yeah… I see why people like the Championships. And it’s great that you’re here, too.”

Grian scratched his head. “Sorry for inviting you so suddenly,” he said sheepishly.

“Ohh, it’s alright! I’ve been eyeing the Championships for a while, to be honest. And this is sorta like a Evo reunion, am I right?”

Grian chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s kind of a Hermitcraft and Legacy crossover now. Especially since I know Fwhip joined False and Ren last last time.” He pumped his fist in the air. “3-GH Solidarity!”

“3-GH Solidarity!” Pearl echoed with a grin. “You know, a few days ago, us 3-G kids stood up for the crafters’ community. Some 3-AB kids were making fun of us and the hermits for being “bad at PvP”, so naturally all of us fired back. You should’ve seen Skizz go crazy defending Impulse! Zloy and Pixlriffs even taped video evidence of them bullying us and are probably going to roast them online. We even started fighting back as a class and we outnumbered them!” Pearl chuckled at the memory.

“Geez! I wish could’ve joined in. I feel bad that you defended us, but we weren’t there to defend you.” A thought struck Grian. “Wait, you _fought_ back? Did you guys get into trouble?”

“Now that’s the most interesting part!” Pearl exclaimed. “I think we were supposed to, but some kid talked to the teachers and we didn’t get anything. Not even a warning. No one knows who they are; we just saw they had green hair. Maybe it’s one of the Green Gods?”

Grian’s eyes lit up. “Fruitberries? I know he beat up bullies before, so it won’t surprise me.”

“Oh really?” Pearl chuckled. “Maybe it _is_ him. Either way, we’re grateful.” 

“The countdown is starting!” Dang called out, and Grian and Pearl stood up. Led by the staff, Grian’s team walked to their “spawn point”. Everyone had a designated spot to start out, and everyone usually ran away from each other once the game started. 

“Good luck!” Grian whispered to the Yellow Yaks when he walked past them. Cub waved at him, while Ren gave him a thumbs up. Grian smiled in return. They were hermits, and hermits supported each other no matter what. 

“Grian, how do you feel about PvP?”

Grian turned to look at Shubble. “Uh, I’m not _good_ at it, but I don’t think I’m… terrible?” He laughed nervously. “I’ll do my best though. Hope I won’t let you down.”

Pearl lightly whacked Grian’s shoulder. “Nah, you won’t! Now release all of your pent up anger!”

Grian gaped at her. “My _what_ —”

“The main campus students have been mistreating you,” Pearl said. “Now you have a chance to avenge your friends who were hurt by them!”

“Nahh. I mean, I’m mad, but I don’t think I can avenge anyone.”

As the Cyan Creepers prepared themselves for Survival Games, Pearl murmured to Shubble, “Grian _will_ pop off. I’ve seen him go feral before, and he’ll definitely go feral at this game.”

Shubble beamed, delighted by the idea. “Looking forward to it!”

* * *

Grian’s team was doing pretty well in Survival Games. Grian let out a little whoop every time the Commentator announced Fruitberries had eliminated someone, which attracted looks from his teammates. “Sorry,” Grian mumbled. “I’m a huge Fruity B fan.”

Shubble sighed. “We know, we know.”

“Yeah, he’s the hermits’ patron saint, innit?” Dang said. “I heard that from my uncle.”

Grian winced. It was always awkward whenever Dang and Scott brought up each other. Dang’s uncle was his homeroom, and yet they looked exactly the same. That was probably the scariest part of the Championships. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Mr. Major knows.”

“ _Cubfan135 was slain by GeorgeNotFound!_ ” the Commentator declared, and Grian jumped. “Ouch. Cub’s eliminated by some guy.”

A pause, then Dang chuckled. “Yeah, ‘some guy’ who’s an important member of the student council.”

“Whatever. I can _not_ believe Fruity B isn’t on the student council. He’s smart, he’s good at sports, and he’s nice. The bias is real. I hate Stan Twitt.”

“Grian, focus. Save your complaining when we’re done with this game.”

Around forty seconds later, Grian heard the Commentator cry out, “ _Renthedog was slain by Dream!_ ” quickly followed by “ _FalseSymmetry was slain by Dream!_ ” Grian winced. “Ouch ouch ouch. Falsie, our PvP queen, got wrecked by the-green-guy-who-isn’t-Fruitberries.”

Shubble laughed. “Do you have anything against Dream? I understand if you do.”

“It started with False,” Grian told her. “Dream doesn’t exist in her brain and she keeps on seeing Dream as Fruit. Suddenly our entire class has decided Fruity B is the only Green God who matters.”

“Aww, sad Pete,” Dang began. “You know, he actually really admires the herm—”

“GRIAN!”

False, Cub, and Ren. Their chest plates were dimmed, meaning their virtual health was all gone. Cub was helping False and Ren walk to the sidelines. False was massaging her head, while Ren’s knee was scratched and bleeding. All three looked exhausted.

Grian ignored that the hermits were technically his opponents, and bounded over to his friends. “How are you guys? Did not-Fruit hurt you really badly?”

“We’re fine—” Ren began, but Cub cut him off. “Dream’s too good at PvP. He kept on hitting us even after we lost all our health. He knocked False down and now her head’s spinning.”

“Yikes.” Grian glanced at False, who was Hermitcraft’s best warrior. Cub was practically dragging her along and her eyelids were fluttering. Grian’s heart ached. It didn’t feel right to see the fearless False this way. It didn’t feel right to see any of his friends hurt. 

“We’ll be fine,” False muttered, but she didn’t look fine at all. “Dream likes to target me for some reason. Stay safe, and best of luck to you.”

As the hermits walked away, something stirred inside of Grian. It wasn’t red hot anger, and it wasn’t despair, but it was certainly something unpleasant. He glanced down at his hands, which were calloused from hours of building and crafting. But those were just minor compared to the scars his friends received from the main campus. Grian slowly waggled his fingers as if he’d just learned to use them. 

Skin was fragile. It could be so easily cut. Back in 3-H, he’d seen the bandage on Ren’s face and the bruises on False’s legs. That was how they showed up, battered yet happy on the Monday after the 4th Championship. Again and again, the hermits willingly thrust themselves into a world that would hurt them. Hurt by people stronger and bigger than them, hurt by fists, swords, axes—

Grian swallowed. He did not feel good at all.

“Grian? Earth to Grian!”

Grian blinked. Pearl was snapping her fingers in front of his eyes, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Sorry about that. Spaced out for a bit.”

Grian recognized the look in Pearl’s teal eyes. She wanted to talk to him, but not now because Dang and Shubble were there. As his old friend, she knew stuff about him that he hadn’t told any of the hermits yet. It was a… sensitive situation.

For a few minutes after that, Grian felt… peculiar. Like he was lost in his thoughts, but his body was moving on autopilot. He responded to his teammates quickly and was alert to any changes like normal. But it was like his mind was elsewhere. 

Then he glimpsed a shade of green that was certainly _not_ Fruitberries.

And Grian moved.

He could tell his teammates were with him due to the sound of their footsteps thumping next to him. Something surged inside him, and he felt an irrational urge to stop his teammates. _This is my kill,_ he promised himself. His friends were yelling something, but it sounded like white noise to Grian. 

He raised his blunted axe—

And it landed squarely on the chestplate of not-Fruit. The bars of light that indicated his health decreased. Inexplicable strength coursed through Grian’s viens. He felt like he was on fire. 

People were still screaming, but it was okay, Grian knew it wasn’t screams of pain. It wasn't the screams of his hermit friends.

He raised his axe again—

_Thump._

And again—

**_Thump._ **

The lights on not-Fruit’s suit disappeared, and a voice boomed in Grian’s ear: _“Dream was slain by Grian!”_

…

Ah.

Dream.

So _that_ was his name.

“YOU KILLED DREAM!!” “You’re insane!” “You got one of the best PvPers!”

His teammates whooped and shouted in joy. Grian was still in a daze, axe in hand, glaring at the green blob/guy/whatever at his feet. Oh. So _this_ was one of the top students of their school. 

No. 

This was some person who hurt his friends. 

“Grine got me!” Dream hissed into his intercom, stumbling to his feet. He dropped his loot on the ground, and without a single word, Grian started to rummage through Dream’s loot. 

“Anyone have any arrows?” Grian asked casually, like he just hadn’t eliminated one of the Green Gods. 

Dream, Dang, Shubble, and Pearl all gaped at him. Grian shrugged. “What?”

“You killed Dream!” Shubble squealed. “Y-you know how big that is?!”

Grian legitimately had no fucks to give. “Whatever. Do you have arrows? We gotta move on.”

“You’re a hermit.”

Grian did not even look at Dream. “And you’re the Green God who isn’t Pete or our patron saint Fruity B,” he stated coolly. “But yeah, I’m a Hermitcrafter and I’m proud of it.”

Dream laughed. “A _hermit_ killed me. Interesting. Not even my classmates can get me. How did you do it?”

Grian finally turned towards Dream, and chuckled. He raised his axe. 

“You hurt my friends? You **_die_**.”

* * *

The Yellow Yaks tried their best, but they got ninth in the end. Which was a huge drop from their 6th place in the previous championship. (Grian’s team got seventh. Cub wondered how they did that.)

“Why did we have to end with Foot Race?” Ren moaned, lying on the floor. “Why couldn’t we end with the Spleefage?”

False panted, her body trembling. Dream’s blows from Survival Games caused her to feel dizzy, and she was still feeling the effects two hours later. Next to her, Cub wobbled on his feet and would’ve toppled down if False hadn’t grabbed his arm. Running around and leaping on platforms in the Foot Race was almost too much for him.

“Thanks, Falsie.” Cub could barely speak, his face as red as a tomato from the exertion.

“Have some water.” The non-hermit teammate, Ry, looked concerned. 

“Ry, I’m sorry,” False wheezed. “We dragged you down. You got top 5 in Foot Race and you got 16th overall— and our team got ninth. We’re bad at this. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t sweat it! You guys did great!” Ry sat down next to them. 

“I got 34th…” Ren muttered, still on the ground. “Wow. Geez.”

“Owww.” Cub flinched and curled into a ball. Ry and False instantly bolted up. “I’m cramping,” Cub hissed. “It hurts.”

“Okay, okay.” False and Ry helped Cub to stretch, while Ren continued to lie, too exhausted to even move. 

“Hey, uh, guys?”

Grian came into view, his team behind him. They look tired, but nowhere near as defeated as the Yaks were. Grian winced. “That Foot Race was harsh.”

“Grian, what’s your individual placement?”

“24th! Which isn’t bad at all.”

“Yeah, that’s great for a newcomer,” Ren gasped. He tried to stand up, but instantly fell down again. Grian grabbed his arms and pulled him up. “Thanks, dude.” Ren’s voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible. 

The Yaks were battered and exhausted by the Championship. With Grian’s team helping them, they dragged their bodies to the Dodgebolt arena. It was Orange versus Blue. Pete, H, Jimmy, and Martyn versus Blue which False only knew as Fruit’s team. 

“We’ve got to support Orange,” False muttered, leaning against a wall. “We know these guys. Even if Fruit is on the opposite side.”

Grian held a starkly different view. “Ohh, I’ve got to support the team that’s _not_ Timmy. And Fruity B is in Blue!! GO BLUE! GO FRUITY B!”

“Here we go again,” Ren and Cub groaned. 

As the Yellow Yaks shouted for Orange, Grian enthusiastically cheered for Blue. It was a quick-paced Dodgebolt, with Pete and Puffy shooting each other at virtually the same time. Blue and orange paint splattered across the arena.

Even from the audience stands, everyone could hear H scream “I HATE FRUITBERRIES!” Grian gasped, highly offended, while False just enjoyed how two of the Green Gods (Pete and Fruit) were in the finals. (“Dream who?”) Nobody predicted Orange and Blue to score the highest, and having the underdogs win was thoroughly satisfying. Upsetting Stan Twitt and MCC Reddit was, in False’s humble opinion, one of the best things ever.

Grian was the only hermit with enough energy to jump and whoop for the teams. False, Cub, and Ren sat on the benches to catch their breath. 

“Man, I really want to get in Dodgebolt,” Ren said. “But I can’t even escape from the bottom quarter of the participants.”

“We’ll get there, we’ll get there,” Cub told him. 

False laughed. “Yeah, this is just to prepare everyone for the comeback of the century.”

In the end, Fundy clutched and Blue won. Grian screamed the house down, delighted for Fruit. H was raging. “I hate Fruitberries **_so much,_** ” he seethed. “I’ve never hated another person so much in my life!”

Dang was cackling. “Fruit snatched the 5th individual placement from under his nose! HBomb’s _mad_.”

But it was visible H didn’t really hate Fruit. Everybody knew those two shared a friendly rivalry and were good friends. Yet, maybe it was just False’s imagination, but Fruit flinched a little when H loudly declared his “hate” for Fruit. 

As Stan Twitt handed the trophy to the Blue team, Grian announced that he would try to find Fruit for an autograph. Pearl followed him, while Dang and Shubble walked around, admiring the rainbow decorations Noxcrew put in to celebrate Pride Month. Ry said goodbye to the hermits and went to find his friends. 

“We should probably get going,” Cub said. 

False wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, we stink really badly. Are we all good to go?”

All three of them were drained of energy. Games such as Parkour Warrior and Battle Box tested their endurance, and Foot Race was the final straw. Holding each other, they stumbled out of the Championship arena.

“We’re going to the next one, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah! As tiring as it is, it’s fun.”

“Yeah, _fun._ ”

Cub froze upon hearing the unfamiliar voice behind them. The hermits spun to see a pack of presumably 3-B students glaring at them. Cub’s hands instinctively moved to his pocket. Cub didn’t know their names, probably because they were just extras who acted as the obstacles to the hermits in their shounen anime. 

“Don’t you know how hard we’ve been trying to get into the Championship?!” Bully A seethed. 

“We asked Scott for months. How come four hermits get to join, but _we_ don’t? Your homeroom is totally biased,” Bully B said. 

“And you’re wasting the spots,” Bully C sneered. “C’mon, at least give us a show. At least find some hermits who are actually somewhat decent at PvP. But no, you guys even suck at _Build Mart._ Don’t you call yourselves builders? Aww, how sad.”

The hermits tried to walk away, but their paths were blocked. “Let us go,” Ren demanded.

 ** _“Listen to me!”_** Bully D yelled. Cub flinched at his loud voice and took a step back, but felt a warm hand around his arm. Ren. Ren, his old friend from the Kingdomcraft days. Cub shakily inhaled. 

Bully E strode towards them. “Never join the Championships again,” they uttered in a low voice. “Save the spots for people who deserve it.”

Ren squared his shoulders. Out of the three of them, Ren was definitely the boldest. “Oh? Or else?”

A fist crashed into Ren’s face. _“Then perish!”_ Bully A hollered.

Ren, surprisingly, was still able to stand. He was probably running on nothing but adrenaline. “We just want to win,” he spat out, rubbing his face. “We’re 3-H students. Can’t we want to go back to the main campus—”

The bullies laughed, then pounced towards Cub and his friends. And Cub had enough. 

He took out his taser.

* * *

Again, again, and again.

First Mumbo’s camera, then Jevin, then the neon sign, and now they were told not to join the Championship.

And False was tired.

Tired of having stereotypes imposed on them, tired of the constant slandering, tired of the awful school and its awful principal.

But most of all, _she was tired of her friends being hurt._

Cub’s taser was working surprisingly well, but he was vastly outnumbered. With a battle cry, Ren launched at one of the bullies, desperate to help Cub. 

False knew this was a fight they were not going to win. First, it was a 3v5. Second, they were just crafters, and these bullies had trained for their entire lives. Third, all three of them were utterly exhausted by the Championship. False could barely stand straight. 

This was when brains would be more important than brawn since they were going to lose anyway. 

False took out her phone and planned to call Scott. She frantically scrolled through her contacts and—

“ARGH!” 

Cub was tossed to the side, the taser falling out of his hand. A bully reached for it, but Ren dived in front of Cub with no hesitation, using his body to guard the taser. 

Something slammed into her skull, and False’s vision blurred. She instinctively stomped on someone’s foot and felt her phone slip out of her grip.

A punch in the stomach and she was sent flying. False slammed against the wall with a sickening crunch. She desperately tried to regain balance, but her body was exhausted and her knees were shaking. She helplessly slid down the wall.

False wanted to protect Cub and Ren, but she couldn’t even protect herself. Fists rained down on her and she feebly raised her hands to stop them.

“It’s unfair,” somebody yelled. “You can’t even fight. Why can you be in the Championship so many times when I’m still on the waiting list?!”

“Unfair? **_UNFAIR?!_** _I”_ False spat out. “Bold of you to say that! We’re in 3-H—”

Someone kicked her stomach, and she gasped.

False choked out savagely, “I don’t care about you. I’ll join the next Championship. And the one after that.” False wiped the blood off her cheek. This was the most damage she had gotten from a school fight, but she sure as hell wasn’t giving in. She fumbled for her phone on the ground, but her vision blurred.

Ah— False’s body was failing her. She’d pushed herself to the limits, and now she would pay for her overexertion. 

But she wouldn’t stop. Because she. Wasn’t. **_Done._**

And she would try again. And again. _And again_ —

She saw her own blood smeared on her phone screen. She blindly found a contact and pressed “call”—

Then abruptly, her vision went black.

* * *

Cub felt like collapsing.

His taser was effective and that was how he managed to incapacitate the five bullies. That was probably the only way the hermits could win the fight. The bullies all laid on the floor, groaning.

But Cub didn’t care about that now. He only cared about—

“Cub,” Ren whispered helplessly. “She’s not waking up.”

Cub spun to see an unconscious False sprawled on the ground, Ren next to her. Both were bleeding, but False’s condition looked worse. Cub felt like someone had gouged his heart out.

False had always done her best to protect them. And now he had failed her.

“Oh my goodness!” a familiar yet unfamiliar voice wailed. Familiar in the sense Cub knew the voice, unfamiliar in the sense that Cub had never heard him use that tone.

A panting Grian stood in front of them, his face as pale as a sheet. His eyes were wide, and he didn’t just look terrified, he looked _traumatized._ Behind him was Pearl, with a comforting hand on Grian’s shoulder. And suddenly Cub had a feeling this was not the first time Grian saw something like that. And suddenly Cub irrationally wished Grian had never come. 

“I— False was calling me,” Grian blubbed, on the verge of tears. “And I could hear screams and— oh my goodness. I need to stop rambling.” He fished out a roll of bandages from his bag, but his hands were shaking so much, he dropped it. He covered his face, tears slipping between his fingers. “I-I’m sorry—” he croaked. “I’m so useless.”

Pearl’s eyes darted between Grian and the other hermits. She was about to say something when hurried footsteps interrupted them. More help was coming.

Four main campus students arrived at the scene. First were Jimmy and Martyn, whom Cub assumed had followed Grian here. Behind them was HBomb, and finally, a Green God. All of them were sickened and horrified, but there was one who also looked, to Cub’s surprise, guilty.

Petezahhutt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I have split another chapter yet again. "Why is it taking so long to reach MCC9" I groan as I keep on expanding chapters. And yes, Ren did sing Baby One More Time (https://youtu.be/06v-YO17QGo). 
> 
> Like last chapter, lyrics are from Assassination Classroom's first opening. The song “The Principal” by Melanie Martinez also really fits this, thanks to the comment by Piano_Oregano :D Like:
> 
> “The principal, OwO, where’s the principle?” (Yeah I know it’s ohh woah not OwO but it sounds like OwO, which fits Stan Twitt)
> 
> “Complicated, overrated  
> You're fixated and elated  
> By the separation  
> In this place that you've created  
> Fuck all of your rules and guidelines  
> You shouldn't even be on the sidelines”
> 
> “The more you try to fuck us over  
> We will be there yelling at your front door”
> 
> Man it’s just a good song for overthrowing authority haha (and I heard it was about Trump-)
> 
> I'm tired now lol so I'm sorry for any mistakes. ALSO LMAO BATTLE SCARS APPEARED ON TWITTER... this is hilarious. I love you Twitter peeps <33 
> 
> Thanks for the support! Please drop a comment! :D Ask me anything at @riacte!


	8. Foot in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cub is mega sus of Pete and HBomb, False wakes up, Pete decides to do something important, Evo and Hermitcraft solidarity, Griangst, Cherrybomb origin story, Fruit's phone call gets rejected (but he's okay).

_I've tried to make you listen_

_But you won't, it's your way, right?_

* * *

Did walking to the infirmary really take that long?

Ren had broken his ankle, so Pete was supporting him. Cub could walk, thank you very much, but he appreciated Grian’s warm hand on his back. Grian’s lips were pursed into a thin line as he stared straight ahead. He looked terribly affected by the incident, and Cub wasn’t going to ask why.

Jimmy, Martyn and Pearl were silent, but Cub could tell Grian was visibly more comfortable around them. Despite panicking, Grian still took the time to comfort Cub and tend to his wounds.

False was unfortunately still unconscious, and H had to carry her. Cub was initially extremely reluctant for that to happen as he _did not trust any of the 3-A students_ (he trusted the 3-G crafters more), but H was the only one strong enough. Besides, Ren had given him a look that screamed “ _trust me_ ”. Cub didn't know why Ren was vouching for H (like yeah, H said Ren had a nice singing voice but did that mean anything?), but it wasn’t like they had a choice anyway. So Cub kept a careful eye on H. 

Somebody’s phone started ringing. It was H’s. As he was using both of his hands to carry False, he couldn’t reply to it. Pete slipped a hand into H’s pocket and rejected the call. “Thanks, Pete.” H flashed Pete a quick grateful smile. 

“So, uh, Cub.”

Cub shot Pete a look. Yes, Pete was helping them, and Cub had supported Pete’s team in Dodgebolt, but Cub still didn’t fully trust Pete. And how did Pete know his name again? Cub didn’t think Pete would bother to remember the hermits’ names.

“You’ve got to destroy your taser because the school will use it as evidence you hurt someone.”

Cub shrugged. “Good thing I made a self destruct mechanism.” He pressed a red button on the taser, tossed it in the air, and watched as it exploded, leaving nothing but ash. It was fine. Cub could easily make more tasers if he wanted to. He had the money, resources, and knowledge. 

“Okay, that’s cool. The main campus teachers will probably try to get you expelled even though you fought back for self defence, but I’m going to bail you guys out, okay?”

“You can do that?” Ren asked, disbelieving.

Pete sighed, but there was a determined glint in his eye. “I’ve done it before, and I can do it again,” he said simply.

“Wait!” Pearl called out. When Pete looked at her, she bit her lip, clearly nervous. “Uh, Pete, were you the one that got 3-G out of trouble a few days ago? We saw someone with green hair, but wasn’t sure who it was.”

“That was me,” Pete acknowledged with a nod. “So yeah, Ren, I _can_ do that.”

“Like how Fruityloops didn’t get into trouble for beating up the bullies last time,” Ren muttered. “Using privilege for good, huh.”

The group sank into silence once again, and Cub recalled the events of the day. The 6th Championship was… well, they got 9th. So they didn’t do well. And they were totally exhausted. After the Championship ended, the five bullies found them, and Cub used his taser. False was knocked out but managed to call Grian. Grian came with Pearl, and suddenly everyone was there. 

Cub did not really know Jimmy and Martyn, but Grian knew them, so Cub trusted them to help him stop his bleeding. He was suspicious of H and Pete though, and he made sure they knew through the glares he shot them. Back then, he had scooted closer to False and Ren as to “protect” them from H and Pete. 

“I don’t need your pity,” Cub had stated coolly.

“It’s alright, Cub,” Ren had whispered to him. “They’re good people.”

Ren trusted the 3-A students, and Grian’s friends trusted them, and Cub trusted the hermits, so he relented and let H pick up False.

“I’m sorry,” Pete abruptly said. Cub glanced at him. “I’m sorry I can’t stop the bullying. I’m one of the ‘Green Gods’. Out of all people, I should have the power. And I…” Pete swallowed, and looked at the ground. His voice became very small. “I couldn’t even stand up for the people whom I looked up to.”

Ren and Cub shared glances. The Green God, the consistent top 5 Championship player Pete himself looked up to the hermits? What timeline were they living in?!

“I’m sorry too,” H sighed. “I- I never did anything useful…”

The 3-A students looked tired and sweaty, and Cub recalled that they were all in Dodgebolt just now and had lost. They probably just wanted to go home and take a shower, but they willingly helped the hermits without a second thought. And to Cub, that kinda showed they were sincere, and not doing it because “they would look good”. 

“I’m sorry too,” Cub confessed. “I… judged you guys based on stereotypes. I didn’t accept your help because I thought you were just like the other main campus students. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re valid,” H told him. “It’s natural to be suspicious of us. Especially considering how some of my classmates treated you.”

The group of crafters and 3-A students walked in silence, all of them too drained to say anything. Cub snuck a look at False, hoping she would wake up on the way.

She did not. 

* * *

_Killing kids all day and night_

_Prescription pills and on-line fights_

_Shooting at the angels while claiming you're the good guy_

* * *

“...”

A sliver of light. Eggshell white walls. 

“...”

An unfamiliar bed. Pain throbbing from her head. Everything **_hurt._**

_“False? Can you hear me?”_

Upon hearing her friends, False feebly parted her lips. “Cub? Ren? Are you guys okay?”

A warm chuckle. “We’re fine. You should worry about yourself first.”

False slowly raised a hand. It had been bandaged. “Ahhh… how long was I out?” she mumbled.

“Around thirty minutes. Not sure. I was really stressed,” Cub admitted.

“We’re safe now. Grian, Pearl, and the Orange Ocelots came to save us,” Ren told her.

False’s head was spinning. “What? Who?”

“Martyn, Jimmy, HBomb, and Pete. H carried you here.”

“Oh.” False rubbed her arms self-consciously. “They saved us from the bullies?”

“Cub took care of the bullies with his taser,” Ren said proudly. “They just helped us when we were too exhausted to move.”

“Cub, that’s so cool!” False sighed and pushed herself into a sitting position. “Well, that was awful.” False would apologize for being knocked out early and being a “dead weight”, but that would just anger her friends and she didn’t want them to waste their energy arguing with her.

Cherry Twitt asked her how she was feeling and taught her how to take care of her wounds. Next to Cherry was Herman Blur, who was nervously twisting his fingers. Scott and the rest of the hermits (yes, all of them were there) were anxiously waiting outside, and practically poured in the room when Cherry allowed them to. False was a little overwhelmed by the love and care, but she appreciated them nonetheless. Wels talked about suing them, while Doc and Bdubs were once again discussing murder, and Mumbo was genuinely crying. Even Ryguyrocky stopped by to check up on the hermits and apologized for not being there. But when the crowd dispersed, False noticed that one hermit was missing.

She tugged on Cub’s sleeve. “Where’s Grian? Did he get hurt too?”

False watched as Cub and Ren exchanged glances. “He’s somewhere with his 3-G friends,” was what Cub replied with. “He’s safe though. Just needs a moment.”

False exhaled. “Ookay.”

“False, you have two more visitors,” Cherry announced. “I think it’s the people who brought you here.”

“Ahh, I see. I want to thank them.”

Pete and H entered, Pete looking slightly apprehensive. Pete’s green hair was a disheveled mess. False noticed Cub subtly shifted closer to her.

“Glad to see you awake.” H nodded at False with a friendly grin. “And I finally know your name, Banana Girl.”

“Haha, yeah.” False returned the smile. “Thanks for taking me here, HBomb.”

“No problemo. Also just call me H. Too much effort to call me HBomb.”

“Hi,” Pete said. “It’s nice to finally talk to you all despite the circumstances. Hope you’ll feel better soon! Anyways, we’re here to propose adding a school rule, and we would like your input.”

“The hermits have been mistreated by this school for years, and I’ve always wanted to stop them. The school, I mean.” Pete took a deep breath. “But all I’ve been managing to do is to stop the bullied students from facing unfair consequences. I didn’t stop the bullies. I didn’t prevent the pain that was unjustly dealt to you. The school has always been lenient to those with good PvP skills and they can get away with just about everything. Fruit and I used that power against bullies, but we can’t keep on doing that. So, we’re going to make Stan Twitt agree to a new rule: bullying 3-H students is not allowed, and doing so might result in being ‘cancelled’ and expelled.”

“That sounds… great,” Ren confessed. “But how the heck are you going to make Stan Twitt agree to that?”

“Through the Student Council.” It was H’s turn to speak. “Stan Twitt has influence over the council, but they also have influence over Stan. If the council asks for a new rule to be added, and do some ‘UwU OwO white boy things’, Stan will likely agree.”

(False felt extremely unnerved by hearing H say “UwU” and “OwO”. It was the first time False thought of H negatively.)

Cub scoffed. “Yeah, the council. Like they’ll stand up for the hermits.”

“We have a chance,” H said optimistically. “Like, I know Fruit will agree with us. We have two Green Gods on our side. They can force the other Green God to agree.”

“We may be skilled at PvP, but we don’t have enough clout,” Pete pointed out. “Neither Fruit nor I are in the council despite being labelled as a ‘Green God’. Despite that, I know we have influence.”

“Yup, yup. We can ask Fruit to convince Dream since Dream respects Fruit. And,” H stroked his chin, “I know some members of the council actually secretly like the hermits. Wilbur loves Grian. I think Tommy and Tubbo do as well. Techno is a Grian simp as well. They’ve just been afraid of Stan Twitt. Not to mention Fundy has asked Iskall for help before. That’s a good portion of the student council.”

False looked surprised. So did Ren and Cub. “Iskall did that? He never said that?”

“That’s right. Fundy asked him to keep quiet. Iskall agreed, on one condition.”

“An I.O.U,” Cub muttered. H’s eyebrows raised.

“Exactly. How did you know— nevermind. Must be a Hermitcraft thing.”

(False noticed H called them Hermitcraft, not the usual “H as in Hermit” that had been imposed on them.)

“So,” Pete coughed. “That’s our battle plan. I’ll write up something and give it to the hermits to make sure you are all okay with the proposed rule.”

“I’m all for it, I’m just worried whether it’ll work out,” False said.

“It _will_ work out,” Pete told her firmly. “I never thought of doing anything like this before because I thought we wouldn’t get enough support. But I noticed people were cheering for Grian in today’s Championship, and that gave us hope.”

“Ahh, I see. Thanks for helping us!”

Pete sighed. “It’s long overdue though. I hope that’ll stop the violence.”

False noticed how H and Pete’s shoulders slumped. “Ah, yeah, your team was in the finals. Thanks for helping us despite being tired.”

H waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it. Pete, you ready to give the proposal to the hermits waiting outside?”

Pete suddenly looked intimidated. “Uhh, can you do it?” he hissed.

H stared at Pete. “But it’s _your_ idea— wait.” A mischievous smirk snuck on H’s face. “Are you scared of the hermits?”

“Well, I— ” Pete spluttered, “they’re my inspiration! My heroes! And it’s only _now_ that I’m helping them. I feel ashamed— ”

False cleared her throat. “And yet, three of them are in front of you. It’s okay, Pete.”

A slight blush rose on Pete’s cheeks. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“If you’re really that scared, I’ll go with you.”

All eyes turned to Cub. Judging by how Ren dramatically raised his eyebrows in surprise, Cub was acting uncharacteristically. Did Pete and Cub get into an argument? False had no clue.

“Oh.” Pete somehow looked like a deer caught in headlights. “That’s nice of you, Cub.”

Cub stood up. “Ren, stay with her, okay? False, don’t move around. You need to heal.”

As Cub, Pete, and H walked out of the room, False could see Cub grin at Pete. Pete looked a little surprised, but smiled back. False wrinkled her nose, and turned to Ren.

“What happened between them?”

“Cub was mega sus of Pete and H when they found us since they’re main campus students,” Ren explained. “But they gained Cub’s trust in the end.”

“I see. Cub’s always been cautious.”

“Yeah, but I guess Pete and H proved themselves.”

A little while later, the quartet of Jimmy, Martyn, Pearl, and Grian stopped by. Grian’s eyes were red and he looked unusually subdued, which genuinely frightened False. Grian was usually so mischievous and joyful. He looked more affected than False did, and False was the one who was knocked out. 

“Sorry I couldn’t visit you earlier,” Grian mumbled, while Martyn rubbed his back. Ren and Jimmy shared looks. “I was… I needed some time to calm down.”

“Never apologise, G. You must be really scared.”

“... So I think you guys deserve an explanation. Years ago, I…” Grian sighed and stared at his feet. Despite that, he seemed determined to go on. “I lost someone close to me,” he choked out. “And the situation just now reminded me of _that_ and… I froze. I was trapped in my past.”

Grian exhaled. “I-I really wanted to help you but I couldn’t… I could only stand there… but I’m glad others came to save you. Just want to let you know I… really really care about you guys. Even though I couldn’t,” Grian laughed weakly, “couldn’t do anything…”

Grian sounded so broken and exhausted. It was clear that he hadn’t shown this side of himself to the hermits before, and now the situation had forced him to be vulnerable when he wasn’t ready. 

“... I understand.”

False placed her bandaged hand on top of Grian’s trembling one. He glanced up, surprised.

“I was knocked out early and I couldn’t protect myself, let alone my friends. But of course that doesn’t mean I don’t care. We were both physically unable to do certain things, but our intentions are what matters the most. What we can’t do doesn’t define us.”

“... Thanks for saying that,” Grian sniffed. He vaguely gestured at his friends from Evo. “These guys said the same thing, but it means more hearing it from you… ‘cause you were the ones who were hurt…”

Ren stood up and hugged Grian. “It’s alright, G,” he whispered. “We know how much you love us.”

“A-anyways!” Grian rubbed his palms together, a bit of his usual energy trickling back into his voice. “Enough about my pity party. Those bullies were _terrible_! Are you going to file a complaint?”

“Cub and I did, but it’s not like the school’s going to care,” Ren replied. “Although Pete and H are trying to get everyone’s consent to propose a new rule to protect us.”

Grian blinked. “Cool. I know they saved you guys, but I still don’t know who they are.”

“H is one of Fruit’s friends. Pete is the other Green God who isn’t Fruit.”

(The hermits knew they had to relate the main campus kids to Fruit since he was probably the only 3-A person Grian knew other than the famous Technoblade.) 

“So, uhh…” Jimmy cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “We 3-G students all know the hermits are mistreated, but we didn’t think it would be this serious to the point of being knocked unconscious.”

“I hate how Cub had to use a taser to defend us,” Ren muttered with clenched fists. “Those main campus peeps are getting angrier and angrier. Maybe it’s because the hermits still dare to defy the school even if we fail again and again.”

“And Dream got me in Survival Games.” False rubbed her forehead. “I haven’t been feeling well since then.”

“Ohhh, Grian killed Dream for you,” Pearl told False. “He was _possessed_ by bloodlust!”

“Yeah, yeah, that was really cool!”

Grian finally managed to smile. “Hehe. No one hurts my friends.”

“I think we have to be more vocal about our opinions now,” Pearl suddenly spoke up. “Nothing’s going to change if we just stay silent and lick our wounds.”

“Definitely. That’s why we’re going to join every Championship to send them a message.”

Grian quietly chuckled. “And remember, it’s all about the Principal. It’s Stan’s fault that this school is this way.”

“We stand with the hermits. You know what, I’m free next month. Shall we team up?” Pearl asked.

Grian’s ears perked up. “Ohh, I’m down! You guys in?”

False laughed. “Did you even have to ask?”

“Let’s go, baby!” Ren declared. “But I mean, is Cub going to join? It’s not right to ditch him.”

“He’s only joining every other Championship,” False reminded him. “So I think the four of us here can form a team.”

“A pity we can’t have more than four in a team,” Martyn butted in. “I mean, we’re crafters, not PvPers! Will it hurt to have six of us on one team? Come _on_ , the PvPers deserve a handicap.”

Martyn’s jokes made them all laugh, and the tension slipped away. A ping from Martyn’s phone distracted them.

“Ahh, Pete’s calling us,” Martyn announced. “He also wanted Grian to see the school rule he proposed. Apparently he and H have a whole document typed up now.”

“Alright, catch you guys later. Stay safe!”

After the Evo quartet left, False admitted, “To be honest, I don’t know much about Pete, but he seems sincere. Good that two of the Green Gods support us. Maybe that’s the universe’s way of making up for being beat up by Dream.”

Ren exhaled. “Yeah. Yikes. But we’ll get Dream back.”

A beat, then False replied. She didn’t know if they could do it now with their current skills, but she was certain it would happen one day. 

“Yeah, definitely.”

* * *

An hour earlier, Fruit had won his first Championship. And it was the first one he had participated in. Not to mention he even squeezed himself into the top 5.

Fruitberries, the youngest of the Green Gods, now had a 100% win rate. They were the underdogs, him and his Blue Bats, but they even managed to beat Pete and H’s team.

Everybody was screaming for his team. Everybody was screaming for _the_ Fruitberries. Fruit beamed, delighted. 

It had all been worth it. All the waiting, standing on the sidelines, observing the others. It had all paid off. People had wondered why the third Green God lurked in the shadows, unlike Pete and Dream, but he was just waiting for his chance to strike. And he somehow managed to exceed the already high expectations imposed on him.

People had long underestimated him despite him being a Green God. Fruit couldn’t blame them. Pete and Dream were indeed legendary, and Fruit didn’t join the first five Championships. Ever since he came to this school, Fruit was known as the “green guy who isn’t Dream”, Techno and Dream’s “sensei”, and a lone wolf who didn’t have a lot of friends. Now he could finally make a name for himself.

H had been fighting with him to get into top 5 for the whole Championship. It was funny to hear H declare Fruit as his “rival” and scream “I HATE FRUITBERRIES!” because that was actually how their friendship started.

Back in 2-A, when they didn’t know each other, they were randomly paired up for a sparring session. Fruit bet him every time (hey, Fruit wasn’t going to go easy on him), which made H mad (jokingly). It didn’t help that Fruit narrowly scored higher than H on their next test, causing H to dramatically announce his supposed rivalry with Fruit. 

Except Fruit didn’t see H as a rival. H was just some fun guy to spar with. But everyone thought they were somehow enemies, which Fruit didn’t mind that much. After all, he didn’t care about what everyone else thought. (But he was irritated by people thinking he was a Dream wannabe. And he was a little sad seeing other students of similar skill level getting more recognition than he did.)

Then the most bizarre thing happened. Fruit was eating lunch on his own while texting Illumina. Nothing out of the blue. But HBomb, the guy who “hated” him, plopped down next to him without a warning. 

Fruit could see eyes watching them. It was no surprise, H had many friends. Fruit wouldn’t be surprised if the entire school was friends with H. (Curiously enough, Fruit was H’s only “rival”.)

“Hi.” H had practically bellowed at him.

“Hi,” Fruit had idly replied, absolutely unbothered. 

“You’re insane,” H said.

“Okay.”

Fruit had no idea what was going on. He had no idea why H was talking to him when H should be having lunch with his many friends. And man, he really sucked at interacting with people.

H then started to ramble about Fruit’s latest achievements in speedrunning and parkour and PvP. Fruit felt like he was being complimented in the most aggressive way possible. Fruit was mystified by H. 

“Thank you,” Fruit said when H finished his ten minute long spiel on his latest parkour attempt. “But… why are you doing this?”

H huffed. “Because people don’t appreciate you well enough!! And if no one’s gonna do it, I’m gonna do it.”

“I thought you like, saw me as a rival.”

H snorted and laughed. “Exactly. You’re a lot more than what you think you are.”

… Fruit was in a state of delighted confusion. Despite being “rivals”, he never thought of H negatively, and nobody had complimented Fruit like that before. Fruit never asked for clout, and was typically fine with being where he was (which was standing in the shadows of the two other Green Gods). And suddenly this HBomb guy was screeching about how Fruit was the best and how he was super skilled and holy _shit_ did Fruit feel appreciated.

And that was how their friendship started. With H aggressively praising his supposed rival because no one else bothered to. H noticed Fruit and saw him as a “threat” the moment they met. H told him he felt annoyed that people were “sleeping on” Fruit and they were “underestimating” his so-called rival. 

So naturally, Fruit grew attached to H. (It was hard not to.)

Fruit never asked for praise or recognition but H just threw that at him, yelling “you deserve it, king!”. H was one of Fruit’s first friends in the school, and one of Fruit’s favourites too.

So Fruit felt totally fine when H started hanging out with Dream’s ever-expanding circle of friends.

He felt totally fine when H screamed that he hated him when Fruit won Dodgebolt.

Fruit felt totally fine. He really did. He had his own little fanclub, and his teacher Cherry Twitt was unconditionally supportive of him, and hey, he had his friends now! He had his Blue Bats! He had Fundy, Puffy and Bitzel!

Fruit and his team cheered and raised their victory coins to the sky. In the distance, Fruit could see the defeated Orange Ocelots huddled in a group, probably comforting each other.

“Fruitberries! _Fruitberries!_ ”

People were chanting his name, excited for the birth of a new “S tier”. Fruit was a little embarrassed, and then—

“FRUITY B!”

Fruit jumped. Now _where_ had he heard that familiar nickname? Fruit swore it was one of his fans, but when he spun around, he could only see masses of students jumping and waving their arms. Fruit had no idea who just screamed.

Somebody’s phone rang, which could barely be heard over the din. In the distance, Fruit thought he saw two Cyan team members run away from the crowd. Trailing behind them were what appeared to be two Orange team members. 

However Fruit was quickly distracted by Cherry Twitt, who hugged him and screamed the house down. Cherry had always believed in him. More of his classmates were swarming him, congratulating him and his team. Fruit was caught up in the glorious joy and excitement of it all. He was so excited he almost forgot someone hadn’t congratulated him yet.

_Where was HBomb?_

Fruit’s eyes scanned the area, but H was nowhere to be found. In fact, the entire Orange Ocelots team was gone. Fruit frowned. Were they really that sad about losing that they couldn’t even say “GG” to the Blue Bats? It didn’t seem like them _at all._ Fruit didn’t know much about the other two, but Pete and H were gracious losers. Wouldn’t H be proud of him? He would, right? He had to be. 

… Fruit wished he could hear H yell “YOU STOLE MY FIFTH PLACE, FRUITBERRIES!!” or something like that. Or just anything, really. 

… It wouldn’t hurt to call him, right?

Fruit’s fingers moved automatically, and pressed that familiar “call” button. He waited. And waited. He held the phone to his ear, hearing the steady “ _beep, beep_ ”. 

Then abrupt silence.

Fruit stared at his screen. _“ **Call declined** ,_” it read. 

Oh.

_Oh._

… Well. H had never hung up on him before. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe he was sad about being defeated by Fruit. Fruit didn’t know, he didn’t know anything about H.

...

_“Hey guys! Let’s have dinner together to celebrate our win!”_

…

Did it matter anyway?

…

_“Sure! I know a really good pizza place!”_

…

No. It didn’t.

...

_“I’m in! Fruit, you free tonight?”_

It didn’t matter. Fruit was fine. Totally.

_“Fruit? Yo?”_

He’d just _won,_ for God’s sake. He was happy. He was content. He just _was._

“Earth to Fruit!”

Fruit blinked. “Oh yeah, sorry, spaced out. ‘Course I’m in! Gotta need a shower first.”

His teammates laughed. “Oh don’t worry, we all do.” “Yeah, that was super fun, but now I’m all sweaty.”

Fruit managed to smile. And with his teammates’ arms around him, he felt okay.

* * *

HBomb called him at 7pm. Fruit didn’t know until 8. He had just finished dinner with the Blue Bats. H had also texted him when Fruit didn’t pick up.

 **HBomb :]** : fruitttyyy 

**HBomb :]** : you free? lets meet at the park 

**Fruit** : oh yeah im free now

 **Fruit:** sorry was having dinner

 **Fruit:** 9pm?

 **HBomb :]** : sure 

Fruit arrived at the park at 8:45pm. H came at 8:50pm and he immediately swept Fruit into a tight hug. “I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” he boomed. “Congrats, Fruit!” Fruit laughed. H always managed to cheer him up. “You did great as well, H! That was one hell of a fight you put up.”

They spent the next twenty minutes recalling the events of the 6th Championship. H waved his hands animatedly to illustrate Fruitberries’ moves in Dodgebolt, occasionally pausing just to scream “YOU’RE INSANE” and jokingly slap Fruit’s shoulder. Fruit also complimented H popping off in Hole in the Wall. In the end, it resulted in them nudging each other and trying to convince the other was better.

“You’ll join the next Championship, right?” H asked Fruit. “Since you had so much fun with this one.”

“Definitely! And you’re joining every Championship, yeah?”

“That’s the plan!”

Even though it was nighttime, the summer heat clung onto them, plus they had gotten worked up discussing the Championship. So H brought ice cream for him and Fruit. They just sat in silence for a while, tired by the day’s events.

“Hey, Fruit? I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier. I had… something important to do.”

Talking with H made Fruit forget H did that. “Oh, it’s okay.”

“Speaking of that, I need a favour.”

Fruit raised an eyebrow. While H could be cheeky and self-proclaimed “immature” at times, H knew when to be serious. “Spill,” Fruit demanded.

H sighed deeply and moodily stared at his melting ice cream. “The hermits in the Championship were bullied again today. One of them was even unconscious for thirty minutes.”

Fruit froze. It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped over his heart. He thought of the nice Banana Girl at practice, and the funny guy who called him “Fruityloops”. “Ren and False? All four of the participating hermits? Are they okay?”

“It’s just False, Ren, and Cub. I think they’re doing alright now. Don’t tell anyone, but one of them had a taser and that was literally the only way they could’ve won the fight against five bullies.”

Fruit shivered despite the summer heat. “A taser? I would say that’s badass, but it’s just… sad they have to use that. And a 5 versus 3 is straight up _inhumane_.”

“Agreed. I think False called Grian for help, and then Martyn and Jimmy went after Grian, so Pete and I followed.” H exhaled. “That was why I couldn’t answer your call; I was busy helping them.”

Suddenly Fruit felt very foolish and selfish. Of course H wouldn’t ignore him for no good reason. “It’s all good. _Yikes._ I’m glad someone found the hermits.”

H took out his phone from his pocket. “Anyways, Pete and I drafted a new rule to guarantee the safety of the hermits. You know how the school turns a blind eye to the 3-A students? Well now, we want to make sure they face the full consequences.” He passed his phone to Fruit and let him read the document, and continued. “We’re planning to convince the members of the student council to agree to this rule, and then have the council convince Stan Twitt.”

“Seems solid. And I agree, the Hermitcrafters deserve protection. But what part do I play in this?”

“Pete’s thinking that you can convince Techno to agree,” H said. “And then you two can try to convince Dream using the power of Green Gods. I’ll ask Fundy and Wilbur, and Wilbur will probably ask his roleplay siblings Tommy and Tubbo. I don’t know if we can get George and Sapnap, but if Techno and Dream agree, that should be enough.”

Fruit licked his ice cream. “Okay, that sounds decent. I’ll do whatever I can to support this. I’ll text Techno tonight.”

“Oh, by the way, you know the hermits?” H eyed him curiously. “Like, you know their names. We’ve been calling False Banana Girl for months now.”

“Ren talked to me at practice,” Fruit replied with a shrug. “They’re cool people. Hey, you know what he called me? _Fruityloops._ ”

H chuckled. “Aww, that’s cute!”

Fruit also laughed, sharing H’s energy. “Yeah, I know right!”

“I think I’m gonna steal that, _Fruitylooooops_ ,” H drawled. “I think Ren really likes nicknames. Like, he called me “Bomb”. And he calls False “Falsie” and Grian “G”.”

“He sounds like a fun guy to be around.”

“He is!” H’s laughter died down, presumably because he remembered the horrible situation the hermits were in. “We’ve got to do something about Stan Twitt’s system,” he vowed, tone grave again. 

“You’re right. But,” Fruit glanced at H, “we’re part of the system too. In fact, this system serves us, the 3-A PvPers. Can we really overthrow the system?”

H met Fruit’s serious face with an equally serious gaze. 

“That’s not a question. We _have_ to dethrone Stan Twitt.”

* * *

_Complicated, overrated_

_You're fixated and elated_

_By the separation_

_In this place that you've created_

_Fuck all of your rules and guidelines_

_You shouldn't even be on the sidelines_

* * *

Two weeks after the 6th Championship, Stan Twitt announced the change. By that time, Dream had obtained a new nickname in addition to “not-Fruit”— which was “not-Pete”. Pete had also joined Fruit and become the hermits’ second patron saint. The hermits were immensely proud of their two Green Gods and adored them. Dream naturally faded into the background, and was known as “some guy Grian killed when Grian went on a rampage”.

“Blah blah blah you can’t bully other people blah blah blah,” Stan Twitt drawled on the stage during a whole school assembly. Stan had spent the last twenty minutes rambling about how cool the “manhunts” were and how “massive” Dream was (correction, it was how massive Dream’s brain was). “If you do, you might be cancelled blah blah blah. So don’t be violent or sth.”

“Stan said “sth” out loud,” Cub groaned. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“This new rule was proposed by our UwU student council led by UwU Technoblade-chan.” Stan Twitt then stopped to screech, “I’M A TECHNO SIMP even if he’s a loser all the time. Okay I’ll move on.”

“What do you mean Techno proposed that?” False hissed furiously. “Pete and H did. Oh my goodness. Don’t these two have any significance at all?”

“Resist the Clout,” Ren piped in ominously. “Unfortunately, Stan only cares about the student council.”

“This rule applies to everyone, from my UwU white male faves to the h-her-” Stan coughed. “To the… to Grine and his friends. I don’t remember who they are.”

Scar groaned out loud, and turned to his friends. “Guys, tell Stan Twitt. One, two-”

“ ** _WE’RE HERMITCRAFT!”_** all of the hermits yelled in unison, shocking the entire school. 

“APPRECIATE MY FRIENDS OR DIE!” Grian shouted. Everybody turned to him, and Grian just shrugged, uncaring. 

“Ok boomers,” Stan Twitt sniffled. “By the way, you can sign up for the 7th Championship now! Best of luck to SBI and nobody else! UwU! Assembly’s over, byeee sisters!”

“Thank goodness. My ears were bleeding,” Grian muttered. Behind him, Tango, Impulse, and Zedaph had mercifully managed to tune out Stan Twitt’s speech by coming up with hilariously accurate roasts for Stan Twitt. Mumbo had straight up decided to skip the assembly like how he skipped Sahara meetings. Bdubs had fallen asleep. Etho had designed a whole interior during the assembly. False was eating bananas. It was obvious none of the hermits cared about Stan Twitt. They made a beeline for the exit of the hall, desperate to escape from this ugly cobblestone hell. 

“Hey, Grian!”

Grian turned to see Pearl place a sheet of paper in his hands. “I had already quickly filled in the sign up form, so help me pass this to Mr. Major, will you?” Pearl called out. 

“No problem!”

“Hey, Pearl,” Ren greeted her. “Looking forward to teaming with you in the 7th Championship! 3-GH solidarity!”

“Likewise. Ohh, the main campus is _not_ ready for us.”

False smirked. “We won’t get ninth next time, mark my words,” she promised.

And so the four of them stepped out of the cobblestone hall and into the sunlight. With the new rule in place, it was a new era for the hermits, and they were determined to prove themselves to the school.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcement: I have mocks in a week, and entrance exams a few months later, so I'll stop writing for a bit <33 appreciate you all!
> 
> Watch me try to lay the foundation of MCC10 Orange Ocelots when MCC7 hasn't even started. Man, these chapters are getting longer and longer.
> 
> ALSO I made graphics for Battle Scars! I think I even made a cover but you can't really add covers in Ao3 lmao. Check it out here:
> 
> https://riacte.tumblr.com/post/640009307985936384/blue-bats-assemble-editing-the-assassination
> 
> (False also reblogged the art which is very pog :] I'm losing my shit rn. I know she reblogs a lot of art but still AAAAAAAAAA HBomb likes AssClass, will she show him-)
> 
> Lyrics from The Principal by Melanie Martinez. It's a very cool song.
> 
> Also it took me eight chapters to realize the title of this damn fic is a pun. BATtle Scars. I'll see myself out-
> 
> (Sorry if this chapter is kinda messy, I had to fit in everything in this chapter and I'm tired haha)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments feed me UwU <3 Love y'all <33


	9. Of Simps and Stans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 7th Championship begins, Grian, False and Pearl mock Ren’s outfit, the hermits meet Two Famous Grian Simps, False is salty, Grian betrays his friends for Technoblade, HBomb declares himself as the Villain of this anime, Fruitberries runs away again— but this time someone finds him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should’ve clarified this ages ago, but Stan Twitt (stan twitter) uses they/he pronouns, Cherry Twitt (cherrybombtwtt) uses they/she, Herman Blur (hermitblr) uses they/he. Micheal C Reddit (MCC Reddit) also uses they/he. This is because they’re supposed to represent a (satirical image of) a community, hence the “they”. The she/he is because of the names I gave them, and for me to not get confused using “they” all the time lmao. I’ll be using the pronouns interchangeably. 
> 
> Also I am very inspired by Frostbyte Freeman’s “How the Blue Bats Won MCC9” documentary, and also the Blue Bats playlist he made, and you’ll see why :D
> 
> Shout out for @cosmisyss on tumblr for helping me with the title! <33 It was either "Of Simps and Stans" or "MCs of MCC". But I thought abbreviations didn't sound as good lmao

_This is an anthem for the homesick_

_for the beaten_

_The lost, the broke, the defeated_

* * *

It was time for the 7th Championship. The hermit team, which consisted of Grian, False, Ren and Pearl, were all a bit more busy now, considering they were all entering competitions and building up their portfolios. So they decided to chill for a bit and focus less on practicing. Last time, the hermits tried too hard and they pushed themselves to the limits. False sighed and rubbed her arms subconsciously. Getting 9th place was a bit of a downer, and she hoped they wouldn’t get it again—

“Hi. What’s up?”

False jolted at the sudden greeting. She turned to Ren, who was next to her. “Not a lot?” she replied, and they both laughed. “Totally haven’t just gotten here or anything,” she quipped. 

False wandered away for a little while, exploring the arena while waiting for the event to start. She found Ren sitting on his favourite pink pool floatie with Grian next to him, evidently chatting. She went over to them, and once she was in earshot—

“Falsie and I and Cub have come 6th, 7th, and 8th,” Ren informed Grian, and False blinked, shocked by her name being mentioned. She laughed at herself, a little embarrassed, and sat down on the floatie next to Ren. “So we just wanna come fifth,” Ren added.

“Wait. In that order?” Grian asked. There was an aqua ribbon on his head, fitting for their team.

Ren shifted, making squeaky sounds on the floatie. “The order was 7th, 6th, 8th.”

“No, we got 9th last time!” False butted in. Ren mockingly glared at her. “Oh shh! I’m trying to forget.”

“Arguably, you’re getting slightly worse,” Grian pointed out the obvious, and False winced.

“Yeah, we’re on a downward trend at the moment,” Ren admitted with a sheepish smile.

False nudged Ren in the ribs. “Ohh, that’s so we can have a big comeback,” she casually stated like it was a fact.

Grian nodded. “Yeah, yeah! The comeback of the century! By the way, where _is_ PearlescentMoon?”

“I’m right here!”

Pearl hurried over, beige hair flying behind her. She had an aqua armband, and False looked at her own clothes, starting to feel a little out of place that she wasn’t wearing anything aqua. Well, at _least_ she wasn’t wearing Ren’s outfit.

“Pearl, welcome to Team Hermitcraft!” Ren clapped Pearl on the back. “We’re delighted to have you.”

“Thank you! 3-GH Solidarity!” Pearl grinned at them. 

“Dang it! You guys have aqua stuff! You got the aqua bandana, you got the headband going.” Ren gestured at Pearl and Grian, then huffed. “I’m feeling left out here, man!”

Grian fixed the aqua ribbon on his head. “This was very last minute, I admit.”

“Wait. Why are you red?” Pearl pointedly stared at Ren, and wrinkled her nose. Grian and False followed Pearl’s gaze. Ren was wearing his bright red and white wrestling suit. “Are you on a different team, Ren?”

“You really don’t look like you’re part of our team,” Grian joined in the mocking with a giggle. 

“We’ll just pretend that it’s aqua, okay? My heart is aqua, dudes!” Ren protested, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

The Championship seemed to be running a little late today, but the Aqua Axolotls were patient since they knew how much effort Noxcrew and Scott put in. Speaking of Scott, apparently Dang was the one who gave Grian the cyan headband last time, and Grian just… dyed it aqua. False resisted the urge to facepalm. 

“Oops. I’m busted,” Grian giggled as Dang gave him the stink-eye. 

“I’m hurt, but not surprised!” Dang exclaimed dramatically. He retreated to his team with his head hung low while putting on his best sad look.

“Aww, poor guy,” Ren said sympathetically. “I wonder if Mr. Major will be mad at you, G.”

“I don’t feel _that_ bad,” Grian admitted with a laugh. “Come on! It’s just a dyed headband!”

And that was how the 7th Championship started. It was a fairly standard Championship for them, which meant they were brutally knocked out at Skyblocke and got 9th for like every game. Battle Box was chosen as the third game, which gave the team an opportunity to interact with the other participants. Their team was doing pretty good until their suits started malfunctioning and the damage taken wasn’t calculated properly. There were a lot more technical problems, which was a first. Professor Noxite and his team looked frantic as they ran around reassuring players. Stan Twitt was raging, and probably about to “cancel” Noxcrew for no reason, but Herman Blur silently knocked Stan out when no one was noticing. 

While the participants waited for a solution, the Axolotls carefully worked on their strategies again. Ren tried being the “mean coach” and said Grian “sucked”, but failed miserably. Ren literally could not be mean towards anybody. 

In the end, Battle Box was reset, which was immensely disappointing, especially because the hermits and Pearl were actually doing well in a PvP game for once. But they kept their chin up high, because complaining wasn’t going to do them any good.

Their first opponent were the Orange Piglets, which was not only a full 3-A team, it also had three student council members— Technoblade (who was _the_ PvP god in the hermits’ eyes), Wilbur (who apparently had an emo phase when he looked like Grian), and Philza Minecraft (no one was sure if that was his real last name, but they just rolled with it). And although Seapeekay wasn’t a member of the student council, he was still a famous 3-A student. 

False glanced at the opposing side and found a guy with curly brown hair— Wilbur— staring at them. More accurately, he was staring at Grian. False vaguely recalled what Pete and H had said, something about Wilbur liking Grian. Then Wilbur turned and his eyes met with False’s, and he started to frantically wave. Interesting. This Wilbur guy seemed to know who False was. Perhaps a fan of the hermits? False knew they had quite a lot of admirers, but she didn’t think 3-A students would admit that openly. That was because they feared being judged and condemned. 

If it was a random 3-A student, False would’ve been scared. But she had heard about Wilbur before, and H said Wilbur was nice, and False trusted H. Plus Wilbur was probably one of the student council members who convinced Stan Twitt to implement the new rule. Wilbur actually looked excited and not in the bloodthirsty way. If False was honest, it was even a little endearing. It somehow reminded False of Grian’s reaction to Fruitberries. And False didn’t want to upset a fan, even if they were from 3-A.

Wilbur waved again, and False laughed, entertained. “Nuh nuh nuh!” She shook her head at Wilbur. Wilbur paused for a second, read her expression, then continued waving, movement even more vigorous than before. False responded by shaking her head even faster. A _beep!_ disrupted their silent communication, signifying the round was beginning. False returned to her team and Wilbur did the same, but False swore she saw Wilbur hide a smile.

As expected, the Orange team swiftly eliminated Aqua, with Technoblade slaining Pearl and Ren. Wilbur even shot False, and False huffed. Of _course_ Wilbur was just acting friendly to let her guard down. But why did Wilbur look slightly guilty? 

False thought trusting H would get her into trouble, but it didn’t, and she ended up trusting Pete and Fruit as well. Were those 3-A students really as mean-spirited and horrible as she thought? Or did she just happen to meet three nice people?

“Wow,” Ren panted. “We survived for like literally ten seconds.”

“Sixteen seconds to be exact,” False grimly muttered as she helped Ren up. “They’re fearsome.”

Grian was anxiously glancing between Technoblade and Pearl. “You guys okay? Techno’s scary.” False recognized the hint of terror in Grian’s expression— it was a shadow of what he looked like when the hermits got beat up last time. No doubt Grian was scared of a repeat of the incident even with the new school rule that protected the hermits. 

“Don’t worry, Grian, I’m alright.” Pearl smiled reassuringly at him. “Techno stopped attacking once our virtual health is gone.”

There was an awkward silence between the two teams. False wondered if she and the hermits should thank Technoblade for the new school rule— Stan Twitt did say Techno “led” the council in establishing it, whatever that meant. So maybe he did help the hermits. That being said, she had never talked to Techno. He was just too intimidating, and False trusted exactly three 3-A students (which were HBomb and the two Green Gods. What do you mean there was another Green God? Sorry, the hermits didn’t give a shit.) And of course there was Wilbur, who had literally… _waved_ at her. For seemingly no reason.

Seapeekay and Philza were discussing something, while Wilbur and Techno stood in the middle of the field. Wilbur muttered something to Techno, Techno cleared his throat, and the entire Aqua team stared at him.

“Hope I didn’t hit you guys too hard,” Techno said in his signature deep voice. He looked genuinely concerned, and False didn’t like it. She didn’t like how she was starting to view the popular kids in a positive way. 

Ren was the first to reply. “We’re fine,” he replied with a polite smile. 

Techno then nudged Wilbur, who was looking increasingly nervous. “That’s… great!” Wilbur mumbled. 

False raised a sassy eyebrow. _“Oh?_ You just killed me,” she said nonchalantly.

Wilbur stared at False, not sure what to reply, probably wondering if she was genuinely offended. He actually looked scared, which was funny, because the hermits should be scared of him, not the other way round. 

“Oh, just kidding.” False shrugged. She felt a bit bad for making fun of Wilbur. “Battle Box eliminations don’t mean anything. After all, it’s either kill or be killed.” (False seriously could not believe she was _bantering_ with a 3-A student she barely knew.)

A ghost of a smile graced Wilbur’s face. “Oh, haha. Yeah. And by the way, umm, Grian?”

Grian shifted closer to his friends, suspicious of Wilbur. “Yeah?” He replied with a hesitant tone.

Wilbur’s eyes shone. “I _love_ your content!” He burst out. “Your designs are really cool, really pog, and I think you’re super funny and charismatic, and—“

The Axolotls shared surprised glances as Wilbur rambled on shyly. Technoblade looked amused, while the two other Orange team members ignored the hermits completely.

Grian was confused but also flattered. “Uhh, thank you?” He offered in a high-pitched voice. 

“Wilbur’s actually the council member who was the most vocal about the new school rule,” Technoblade informed them. Wilbur instantly flushed. 

“When Stan didn’t agree, Wilbur wrote a whole diss track and played it in Stan’s office until he agreed,” Technoblade continued. His eyes darted to the Axolotls. “I know Stan said I’m the one who started the campaign, but I didn’t do much actually,” he confessed.

“Shut up. You dueled Dream to force him to agree, didn’t you?” Wilbur commented. “You trained with Fruit and everything. We _saw_.”

The Axolotls gaped at Wilbur and Technoblade, surprised that two of the most popular students in Stan Twitt’s school would do that for the hermits. But before they could say a word, a shrill bell rang, telling everyone that the current round of Battle Box had ended and the teams needed to move on. 

“Well, geez, thank you!” Ren replied good-naturedly. False shot him a sharp look. 

“Don’t forget I love you, Grian!” Technoblade cried out.

“Yeah!” Wilbur cheered, waving his arms. “I love you too, Grian!”

“Boys, boys, move on.” Philza flung his arms around Techno and Wilbur and ushered them away. Wilbur grinned at the hermits, and False thought of returning the smile, but by the time she made up her mind, Wilbur had already turned away.

“Oh wow. That was… eventful,” Pearl whispered once the Orange team was out of earshot. 

“Yeah.” False had no idea what to say. “They actually _like_ us. Even though they serve Stan Twitt’s system. Huh.”

“That’s really cool!” Ren was grinning from ear to ear. “ _The_ Technoblade and the WilburSoot support us? That’s huge!”

“Ohh, so you trust them?” False challenged Ren. She loved Ren, but he could be a bit too nice and trusting at times. “I mean, they probably truly like us, but they only showed their admiration recently. They only did that after Pete and H and Fruit proved it was “cool” to support the hermits.”

Pearl snorted. “Yeah, False, I saw Wilbur wave at you, and you shook your head.”

“That was just to entertain him,” False insisted, but she knew the truth. She was getting fond of the 3-A students, or at least, the ones who showed the slightest bit of kindness to them. And False didn’t know if that was good or bad. (Probably bad. What if they were just faking it to make fun of them?)

“So G? How do you feel?”

Everyone turned to Grian, who was tapping his chin. Grian shrugged, acting like he wasn’t affected, but it was obvious to his friends that he was delighted.

“Well. It’s nice that Techno likes me,” Grian said. “After all, Techno is the most popular student, right? He’s the best in PvP. Like, maybe even better than Fruitberries. And I _love_ Fruity B.”

“Actually,” Pearl piped up, “I don’t think Techno’s the most popular student anymore.”

“ _We don’t talk about not-Fruit in this household,”_ Grian stated with a sweet smile. Ren and False nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, we don’t care about not-Pete.”

“Iskall called him Nightmare once. Maybe we should use that nickname.”

“I mean, I _am_ happy people appreciate the hermits, but…” Grian trailed off, and he bit his lip. “I’m scared. I’m scared they’ll do bad stuff to my friends and I’ll look stupid for falling for their empty words.”

The rest of the Axolotls were silent. They knew Grian was traumatised by the hermits being beat up last time. And now Grian was feeling irrationally guilty for being happy when he was complimented. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“If it’s any reassurance, I think Wilbur’s a cool person,” Pearl told Grian. “He never insulted the crafters.”

“And Techno doesn’t deal unnecessary damage,” Ren piped up. “Like, he just wants the kills. Or at least he does that to us. Maybe he’s lenient because he knows we’re bad at PvP.”

False rubbed her forehead, recalling the events of the last Championship. “Yeah, unlike _some people._ ”

“I’ll kill not-Fruit for you if he does that again,” Grian vowed. “And I guess you guys are right. Maybe Techno and Wilbur are cool after all.”

* * *

_I'll carry you home_

_No, you're not alone_

_This is worth fighting for_

_You know we’ve all got **battle scars**_

_Keep marching on_

* * *

It was a little sad that the Aqua Axolotls didn’t perform as well as they did before the Battle Box reset. Maybe that had really damaged their morale, but at least they had a good time. Battle Box was universally a favourite game to play despite the technical difficulties.

The Axolotls chatted with more people during Battle Box. Dang, Shubble, Martyn and Jimmy were in the lime team, and were all friends of the hermits, so they had a jolly time making fun of Grian’s dyed headband. Pete, HBomb, and Fwhip were in the green team, and the Axolotls were delighted to see Fwhip doing well.

Pearl slapped Fwhip’s back. “Dude, I hope you win! Do it for the Legacy peeps.”

“Yeah, let’s go, Fwhip!” Ren cheered. “Our teammate from our first MCC!” 

Meanwhile, False took the chance to ask Pete and H more about Technoblade, Wilbur, and the rest of the student council. H, who seemed to know everyone in the school, gleefully told them the times he saw Wilbur and Techno simp for Grian. Grian’s eyes widened as he heard the stories of them watching his videos and Wilbur copying Grian’s look in his younger and more vulnerable years. By the time H was finished, Grian was utterly convinced he liked Techno (and Wilbur).

They did see Fruitberries, but Grian was too scared to talk to him, so he just waved. Fruit waved back, and Pearl had to grab Grian to prevent him from collapsing on the ground in joy.

After Build Mart was played, it was time for the audience vote, which totally wasn’t rigged by Stan Twitt and the UwU favourites. Technoblade and Dream totally didn’t know cameras were aimed at them and totally did not command their fans to vote for the game they wanted. It was a close tie between Hole in the Wall and Rocket Spleef, and Hole in the Wall won by a small margin. However, due to technical issues, Rocket Spleef was played.

“It’s because of our protagonist armour,” False answered breezily, knowing Rocket Spleef was one of their best games. 

“THIS IS RIGGED!” a random guy screamed. “THIS IS UNFAIR! THEY RIGGED IT FOR TECHNOBLADE!”

“NOOOOO MY BABY DRÉ!” Stan screamed from the sidelines. “I’M CANCELLING NOXCREW!! wAAaaAaaAaa *insert pathetic baby crying noises* nOT my UWU MANHUNT UWU BEST BOI DREEEAAAM!!!11!”

(At that point everyone had stopped questioning why Stan Twitt could say asterisks out loud. It was just a Stan thing.)

“Hermitcraft wouldn’t be run like this!” Wilbur bellowed from the crowd in response to Noxcrew’s technical difficulties. If Wilbur could declare his love for the hermits so publically, it meant he really did like the hermits despite the fear of being bullied by Stan Twitt and his classmates. 

“Not-Fruit’s acting like _he_ doesn’t manipulate everyone into voting for his game,” Pearl huffed. “Techno and Not-Pete control all the choices. But I mean, Hole in the Wall did win fair and square, so his baby raging is kinda acceptable?”

“I feel bad for Sylvee.” False nodded at the only female member of Dream’s team. Sylvee was surrounded by Not-Fruit, Not-Fruit’s Not-Boyfriend, and the other Dream Team guy Sapnap. The other guys were obviously very competitive and raging, and Sylvee looked a little awkward. 

“This seriously feels like our protagonist armour is showing,” Ren said brightly. “Who else would the protagonists of Minecraft Championship be if not the underdogs? It makes sense too, since False cannot remember not-Fruit, which means he’s a background character while we’re the protagonists!”

Grian patted Ren’s back. “You might be onto something, Ren.”

“Ren’s correct,” False said with a perfectly straight face. “Of _course_ we’re the protagonists. Getting 9th last time is just laying the foundation for our eventual victory and our golden age.”

… False didn’t know if she had jinxed it, but after all games were played, her team got 9th again. For the second time in a row. 

(At least they had a fun time. Ren quipped that his muscles got in False’s way during Hole in the Wall, and he jokingly raged so much when got knocked off in the third round. And Grian’s gong was amazingly calming as always. Ren even asked Grian to record the gong sound.)

“Back to back,” False remarked wrily. “We got 9th last time too.” But her teammates were focusing on Dodgebolt, which would be between the Orange Piglets and Fwhip’s team. The Axolotls went up the stairs to the Dodgebolt arena, noticeably less tired than last time. During the 6th Championship, Ren, False and Cub literally had to be dragged there, but this time, they were smarter and conserved their energy. Ren had joked that “they were going to suck anyway”, which hich kinda hurt. (Not that she was going to tell him.)

“Let’s shout for the Green Guardians!” Ren declared. “That’s Fwhip’s team.”

False turned to her friends, and bit her lip. Moping about her loss wasn’t going to do any good. She had to move forward. “For sure,” she chimed in. 

“Let’s shout for Legacy! Let’s goo!” Ren hollered. 

Pearl nudged Ren. “I can vouch for that one!” she replied cheekily. 

“Sweet.” Ren glanced at the arena. People were already picking up different coloured banners to show their support. “Let’s get a green banner too.”

Ren, False, and Pearl darted to Green’s side of the arena to get their banners. False noticed that Grian was lagging behind, but before she could comment on it, Ren started talking again.

“I would love to play Dodgebolt one day, man.” Ren stared wistfully at the Green Guardians who were eagerly discussing their strategies. “It looks like such an amazing and fun game.”

Grian glanced at him. “In the Championship, or just normal dodgeball?”

“Uhh, both!” Ren replied cheerfully. 

Grian’s voice turned a little high pitched, which False noticed he was prone to doing so whenever he got nervous. “Uhh, fun fact about me: I have a coaching course, level one, in dodgeball.”

“Really?!” Ren looked incredulous. 

“So I’m technically qualified to coach dodgeball.” Grian’s voice sounded further away, which meant he was walking away. False was confused, but then she saw what Grian was holding. “And admittedly, I’m Orange,” Grian confessed sheepishly, orange banner in hand, “because Techno said he liked me, so I’m gonna support Techno. And it’s about time I notice someone other than Fruity B.”

“Wow,” Ren and Pearl replied in similarly disappointed tones. Pearl crossed her arms. “Grian, I’m ending our friendship,” she declared in a somber tone. 

“Ohh, I see how it is,” False drawled, glaring daggers at Grian. “So much for forming the Clout Resistance, _Mother Spore._ ”

“I mean, none of the Green guys were like _‘Grian’s team’_!” Grian protested. “Two of them saved you guys but,” he lowered his voice, “I still don’t really know them! They never said they liked _me_!”

Pearl wrinkled her nose, probably offended on Fwhip’s behalf. “Well, how do you know that?”

Grian shrugged. “All I know is that Techno supported me. So I’mma support him in return.”

“Wow, Grian,” False deadpanned. “What happened to 3-GH solidarity? What are you now, a Technoblade fan?” And because she was salty and couldn’t stop herself, she added, “Did you forget about Stan Twitt’s system? And how much have we crafters suffered because of the main campus people?”

(False knew Grian was the most popular hermit. He was even more popular than a good portion of the 3-A kids. Of course he would try to mingle with the Popular Squad, the Dream Simps or whatever. Who could blame him for wanting to escape from the hermits’ little corner for a while?)

Thankfully, Ren switched the topic and kept the atmosphere light and fun. “So G, next time I come visit you we can play dodgeball?”

“Yeah man! I’ve actually got some at home.”

“Ohh, I wanna see that,” False joined the conversation. “Hermitcraft dodgeball. Sounds...” she watched as Grian wandered to Orange’s side of the field, leaving his friends behind. “... fun.”

.

.

.

Meanwhile, on the Dodgebolt field, Orange Piglets were going crazy with Grian’s support. Grian shyly stood on the sidelines, while several participants gaped at him, recognizing the famous future architect Grian. 

Then a wild scream from the Orange Piglets. “Grian wants us to win, dude!’

“GRIAN, MY BOI!” Technoblade hollered, turning to Grian. It was comical to see the Blood God himself be reduced to a simping, sobbing mess. “Grian, I would ** _NEVER_** disrespect you!” he screamed for the whole world to hear. “Grian, I LOVE YOU! Nobody loves Grian more than Technoblade,” he fiercely declared. The crowd erupted, and Stan Twitt started screaming.

“SIMP!” Stan screeched, pointing a stubby finger at Techno. “THEY’RE SIMPING FOR EACH OTHER! TECHNOGRIAN IS REAL!”

“Wow. Okay.” Ren deadpanned. “It’s like Hermitcraft doesn’t mean anything!”

“I’ll text Mumbo and see if he gets sad,” False muttered under her breath. One time, Grian announced he loved Mumbo (platonically), and Mumbo hid under a table for twenty minutes, too embarrassed and happy. 

Grian waved at Technoblade, orange banner fluttering in the wind. He was way calmer than Techno, but still excited. “Go on Techno!” he cheered. Despite the distance, False could hear his voice clearly. “I’m with you!”

“What a traitor,” Pearl scoffed. “Never mind the _Technoblade Fan._ Let’s support Fwhip.”

The three of them stood closer to the railing and shouted for the Green Guardians. Fwhip flashed them a thumbs up, and False’s heart swelled with pride. She had started her Championship journey with Fwhip, and they were both crafters, and now he could win. He could win for the crafters’, for Legacy, for 3-G. He could win and prove to Stan Twitt that the crafters were capable. But most importantly, he could upset MCC Reddit and the Techno/ SBI stans. Which was probably the best thing in the world (second only to Stress’ cookies.)

“LEGACY LET’S GOOO!” Pearl whooped. She couldn’t get close to Fwhip because he was already in the court, but they mimed a high five. 

“Pete! Hmama!” Ren exclaimed. “You got this dudes! You guys are _so_ good at Dodgebolt that it scares me.”

H grinned. “Thanks, Ren! Wait, what did you just call me—”

“Upset Stan Twitt! Go go go!” False yelled, raising her volume to drown out the screeching fans of Technoblade and Co. 

“Ohh don’t worry, Orange’s going down.” H smirked. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Green won the first round of Dodgebolt, but it was a best of five, so they had to win two more to claim their victory. Pearl gripped the railing tightly, anxious for Fwhip. Ren started to narrate the Dodgebolt, which helped to ease the tension. 

“I really hope Fwhip wins,” Pearl sighed. “I mean, _duh,_ because he’s my friend and we’re in Legacy, but it’ll also be such a cool moment for the crafters and the non-PvPers.”

“I know right!” False’s eyes found Grian, who was cheering for Technoblade and his team. “Grian’s gone to the dark side, though…”

“Well,” Ren popped in the conversation, “people with clout attract other people with clout. Plus supporting Orange would give him more clout and make Stan Twitt like him for a while. Maybe that’s his plan. To make people notice and like the hermits.”

False gulped. If there was one thing she knew about Grian from their months in 3-H, it was that Grian was smart. He knew how to present himself as a charismatic and likeable figure, and he knew how to amass loyal fans, winning the hearts of even the famous PvPers. Plus Grian was sneaky, and determined to have things go his way. 

… Maybe this would work out in the long run. By interacting with the popular kids, Grian could bring positive attention to Hermitcraft and help all of them. Or maybe Grian just wanted to be appreciated. 

“In his defence, we all want attention,” False said. “Especially someone like Grian, who was basically sent to 3-H for being too popular and taking attention away from the PvPers. It’s sad, but can we blame him?”

“... He won’t forget about us, right?” Ren’s voice was small. 

“He won’t, Ren,” Pearl replied with confidence. “He still keeps in touch with me and the Evo people, and I know Domrao helps him with his episodes. Grian’s a lot of things, but he loves his friends.”

Ren exhaled. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s just… I love 3-H, man. I love Hermitcraft.”

Technoblade proceeded to casually get an ace in the next round. “Wow. I can’t imagine ever doing that,” False muttered, fascinated yet intimated by Techno. 

“Funnily enough, I can see _you_ getting an ace.” Ren poked her shoulder. 

False rolled her eyes, amused. “We’ll talk about that when we get into the top half of the teams.”

After Technoblade’s ace, Orange won one more round, but Green brought it back. The score was 2-2, and it couldn’t get any more intense. Ren was shaking False’s shoulders in his excitement. 

“Come on, Fwhip!” Pearl screamed from the sidelines. “Come on, _come on_!”

“This is the final round,” False whispered in awe. “This would decide everything.”

Stan Twitt was straight up bawling, screaming for Orange, probably talking about UwU boys UwU whatever. Annoyance prickled inside False. Stan Twitt was obviously biased against the Green Guardians, when both teams had worked equally as hard to get there. And if False was honest, she swore Green worked a little harder, considering Fwhip had to sacrifice the time he used for creating so he could practice with his friends. It wasn’t like the 3-A kids dedicated hours and hours to designing mansions and vineyards. 

… She really hoped Green could win. She hoped the crafter community could get a win. That would be the best option. 

Pete, the Green God, was the first to be eliminated by Technoblade. Fortunately, Fwhip took Techno out just as he did last round.

“BETTER THAN TECHNOBLADE!” Ren roared, smacking his palms together. 

Ten seconds later, Seapeekay shot Fwhip, leaving H and Eret on the field. It was a 2 versus 3, and things weren’t looking good for Green.

“This is so intense!” Ren gasped. “Now _this_ is the power of 3-A PvPers.”

H shot Seapeekay, but then Eret was eliminated by Philza. “Dude!!” False shouted. “Oh no, HBomb’s on his own!”

It was a 1 versus 2. H versus Philza and Wilbur. H versus two of the SBI. H versus two of Stan Twitt’s favourites.

“HBOMB TAKE THE WHEEL!” Ren squealed. “C’mon, Hmama! You can do it!”

“Do it, HBomb,” False whispered, knuckles turning white from her tight grip on the railing. “Do it. Upset everyone. _Please_.”

“The odds… aren’t looking good,” Pearl admitted. “But I have hope! I mean, it’ll be predictable if Orange wins. It won’t make for a good plot.”

“I’ll tell you what makes for a terrible plot. A 3-0 in Dodgebolt with Not-Fruit and his Not-Boyfriends winning.” Ren paused. “Not that _that’s_ going to happen.”

“That’ll be the most boring Dodgebolt ever. Everybody would hate it except for Stan Twitt, and Stan will pretend it’s the best Dodgebolt ever while casually forgetting, let’s say, the underdogs getting a reverse sweep exactly two Championships ago.”

“You guys sure are making oddly specific predictions today.”

H was focused on his two opponents. He dodged and jumped to avoid being shot, but his grip on his air gun was surprisingly steady. The Axolotls stood with the rest of the Green Guardians, screaming their support for HBomb. 

“How can he be so calm?” False gaped in amazement. “Everyone’s focused on him, and Stan Twitt hates him right now.”

“He’s not as calm as he seems,” Fwhip told her. “He’s just… holding himself together for us.”

Two green paintballs were dispensed on H’s side of the court. He inserted them into his gun, took a deep breath, and he aimed. 

“Come on, H,” Fwhip muttered, hands balled up into anxious fists. “Come on, come on, come on.” 

“If he misses, he has to dodge two more shots,” Pearl pointed out. “He _has_ to shoot both of them.”

False was getting uncharacteristically worked up. “Upset Stan Twitt!” she chanted, waving her green banner so vigorously that she nearly fell down. 

Then it happened.

It happened so quick, they nearly missed it.

A green paintball hurled towards Philza and exploded. Before anyone could even breathe, another paintball splattered on Wilbur, covering the Orange Piglets and their side of the field with a brilliant shade of green. 

For one second, no one said anything.

And then—

“WE WON!” The Green Guardians hollered. Eret, Fwhip and Pete immediately jumped onto the Dodgebolt field and hugged H. 

“ ** _Green Guardians win the 7th Championship!_** ” A voice boomed from somewhere, drowning out the pathetic whines of fans who were “angy” that their “uwu Techno-chan” and “Wilbur oppa” lost. 

“YESSS!” Pearl whooped. “Fwhip won! A 3-G student won!!”

“YASSS HMAMA!” Ren squealed. “They did it! They upset Reddit and Stan Twitt!”

Stan Twitt was sobbing ugly tears and insulting the Green Guardians in a way that was reminiscent of a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Herman Blur, tired of Stan Twitt’s bullshit, raised a fist, but before he could punch Stan, a leg slammed into Stan and knocked him out. Herman blinked, in awe.

“Cherry Twitt!” Herman exclaimed, gaping at her. “Awesome!”

Cherry winked at Herman. “Just doing everyone a favour. No one slanders my boi HBomb94. That being said, I should talk to Fruit. He’s probably feeling a little down because of his 14th place. Also,” Cherry walked towards Herman and flung an arm around his shoulder, “ _nice butterfly wings._ Haven’t seen them before.” She touched the magenta and pink gossamer wings, fascinated by the intricate designs. 

Herman swallowed, flattered. “Y-yeah. I made them yesterday. I was inspired by Stress’ beautiful glass butterflies. Also, uhh, you’re getting kinda close?” 

“Whoops!” Cherry heartily slapped Herman’s back and moved away. “Sorry, forgot you’re kinda a hermit.”

Herman scratched his head awkwardly. “If it’s you, I don’t mind,” he mumbled. 

“Oooh, I heard that,” Cherry drawled, grinning mischievously. “Glad to know I’m your only exception, Herman.”

“Oh shh. It’s because your kids are nice to _my_ kids.” Herman flushed. “And stop distracting me before I forget again…”

He pulled out two plushies from his bag, one a plushie of a cherry, another of a bomb, fitting Cherry Bomb Twitt’s name. “Here.” He passed them to Cherry. “Thanks for being a great friend.”

“Aww, you don’t have to!” Cherry gasped, clearly very taken by the plushies. She took the bomb one and squished it. “Huh. I kinda expected it to explode, considering you’re the TA to the literal Boomers…”

“I-I mean, I was busy making plushies for my kids… like Jellie plushies and Cub and Jevin and Xb and False… so I thought, why not for you too?” Herman rambled, eyes staring anywhere but Cherry. “Maybe I can make nonhuman designs for your kids too, but Fruit is already kind of, you know, a _fruit_ —”

He was cut off by Cherry hugging him. “Thanks, Herman,” Cherry whispered. “You’re the best!”

Herman patted Cherry’s back, a grin on his face. “Yeah, love ya too.” A few seconds passed before he added “platonically.”

Somebody cleared their throat. “You guys really are hugging over Stan Twitt’s dead body. Which is a mood.”

“Obviously,” Herman Blur drawled, but stopped when he realized who he was talking. “Oh, uh, hi, Scott.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Hello. Also, you guys better scarper before Stan Twitt wakes up and fires both of you.”

Cherry and Herman stared at Stan, who was tossing and turning and mumbling about “OOMFs” and “generic skinny white males in their young twenties”. Cherry groaned.

“Why can’t Stan just die? I mean, he did give me a job, but I kinda wanna murder him.”

“He’s resilient,” Herman remarked grimly. “We all are, to be honest. Stan Twitt survived scandals, and I survived the ship discourse.”

A demonic screech interrupted their conversation. Stan had unfortunately woken up. _“ **WHOMST** hurt my poor UwU babey self?” _

Scott, Herman, and Cherry shared exasperated looks. Herman grabbed Cherry’s hand and they took off. Scott put on a false smile and helped Stan up.

“Oh hey, Principal Stan! You’re awake! That’s… nice! You fainted because you were too shocked by the, uh,” Scott made a face, hating what he was about to say next, “ _UwU bois_ losing the Championship!”

Stan huffed. “Technoblade is such a loser. How come he only had one ace and not three? Unstanning him, but I still love him. I am a walking contradiction, I am a hypocrite and I don’t care because I possess no critical thinking skills.”

Scott blinked, surprised by how strangely perceptive Stan was. No doubt that sudden clarity would only last for two seconds. “Oh, and uhh, you need to present the trophy to the Green Guardians. They’ve been waiting for a while.”

As Green Guardians walked on stage to receive their trophy, the Axolotls clustered beneath their feet, screaming and whooping. Fwhip leapt off the stage to hug the Axolotls, golden crown glittering on his head.  
“Legacy for the win!” “3-GH solidarity!” “You’re so pog!”

“We’re so proud, Fwhip!” Ren beamed. “Like, we were in the 4th Championship together, and look at how far you’ve come!”

Fwhip smiled bashfully. “Yeah, it’s super cool to see my skills improve! And I’m sure you guys will win one day. Maybe not with me, but you’ll definitely win. If a 3-G student can win, why not the 3-H hermits?”

“I know, right!” Pearl flung her arms around the hermits. “And when you win, you can rejoin the main campus and stop the discrimination!”

… Ah. That was right. They could return if they won. False, Grian, and Ren shared looks. Somehow, all three of them had forgotten about that part.

They were having so much fun in 3-H though. It was better than being forced to practice PvP and parkour and speedrunning, and in 3-H, they had the chance to express themselves. Whether by builds, machines, music, video editing, or even armour stands. One question popped up in the hermits’ minds, one that they hadn’t really thought about in a long time. 

_If they won the Championship, would they leave 3-Hermitcraft?_

* * *

_I’m Mr Bad Guy_

_They’re all afraid of me_

_It’s my only way to be_

_That’s my destiny_

* * *

So HBomb won the 7th Championship. Which was nice, but the main point was that _they defeated the fan favourite._ They defeated Technoblade’s team. 

Sure, the Green Guardians was a little overpowered, and they were predicted to win, but everybody was rooting for the Orange Piglets. It was the last time they would be teamed up after the Pink Piglets in the 6th Championship, and H knew they desperately wanted a win. Technoblade even spent hours studying the Build Mart builds and his team dominated the game. They put in a lot of effort. They sweated, practiced every day, hoping they could win with their closest friends. 

It would be amazing if they, Stan Twitt’s precious babies, could win. The Power of Friendship would triumph over everything else, and it would be the perfect ending to their story. Technoblade, Wilbur, Seapeekay, and Philza as the victors of the 7th Championship. How pleasing, how poetic would it be!

Too bad HBomb ruined everything with his three Dodgebolt kills. 

Too. Freaking. _Bad._

To add insult to injury, HBomb and Pete had been in the Dodgebolt last Championship. Sure, they lost to Fruit’s team last time, but the fact their team placed first twice in a row was very telling of their talents and leadership skills. 

Stan Twitt raged and hollered, but H just gleefully cackled. He scooped Fwhip up, ecstatic his crafter friend from 3-G could win. Eret could be considered one of the rare crafters in 3-A, and he had gotten 32nd last time, but he jumped up to 17th. And of course Pete did amazing as always. H tightly hugged his friends, delighted for everybody. 

“WE FREAKIN DID IT!”

Fans of the Orange Piglets glared at them, pissed off. Of course the Guardians didn’t care at all. H shot the stans a dazzling smile, flexing his team’s victory. 

“Your three kills saved us!” Pete gushed, heartily clapping H on the back. “HBomb, you madman! I’m bad at Dodgebolt, haha.”

“Awww come on, don’t be like that!” H mockingly glared at Pete. “You _got_ us to Dodgebolt, Mr. Green God!”

“Oh goodness, they’re booing us,” Eret deadpanned, referring to the distraught and anguished crowd of stans around them. “They’re booing the crafters for winning.”

HBomb snorted. “Let’s spit on their graves. We won fair and square.”

The crowd wouldn’t stop hollering insults at the very legitimate winners for some reason. Maybe they lacked braincells. 

“THEY STOLE THE WIN FROM TECHNO!1!1!!”

“NoOooOOOO UNPOG!”

“RIGGED! THEY RIGGED IT FOR GREEN!”

H rolled his eyes. “First they said Noxcrew rigged it for Techno, and now they rigged it for us. Make up your mind!”

“HOW DARE YOU!” Somebody screamed. “Orange was supposed to win! It was written in the stars!”

“Yeah, like the world revolves around a certain team,” Fwhip scoffed. “What are they, the protagonists of the Championship?”

“OF COURSE THEY ARE!” The somebody declared loudly (and stupidly). “Techno and Dream are the only people who matter!”

“Oh God. People don’t understand sarcasm?!” Eret hissed to his teammates, but H had a comeback in mind. 

“So they’re the protagonists, the MCs of the MCCs?” H boomed, a wild glint in his bright blue eyes. “If that’s the case…”

He spread his arms wide as if to embrace the world, and his voice lowered dramatically.

 **_“Then I’ll be the villain._ ** **”**

The stans stared at him, baffled. H scoffed, and pretended to flick his hair.

“I’ll ruin their lives. I’ll ruin _your_ lives. Heck, I’ll even ruin my life (but let’s not talk about that). I love upsetting everyone. Screw Stan Twitt and clout.”

H had attracted a sizeable audience by then, all of them wondering what H was high on. The rest of the Guardians stared up at him, entertained yet mildly terrified of H’s craziness.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” H continued. He leaned forward, and with a cheeky smirk, he drawled,

**_“H’s coming for ya.”_ **

He mimed dropping a microphone, dramatically turned on his heel, and disappeared. 

* * *

_I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died_

_If I never loved, I never would have cried_

* * *

14th place.

That was who Fruit was.

A Green God, dropping from 5th to 14th.

Pete, H, and Dream took 1st, 2nd and 3rd respectively. Of course they would. Pete and H, along with Fwhip and Eret, won the 7th Championship. Pete and H were in Dodgebolt for two times in a row, and after being defeated by Fruit’s team last time, they snatched the win from Technoblade’s team. 

It was horrible how everyone almost instantly started doubting Fruit. “Even a crafter scored higher than him,” Fruit heard them furiously hiss. “Puffy scored higher than him in his own team. How can he call himself Techno and Dream’s sensei?”

Fruit wanted to tell them they were all _wrong,_ and he had a bad day, or he was unlucky, but the words never came out of his lips. Did Fruit have any valid excuses? Maybe he wasn’t that great after all. Maybe he didn’t deserve the Green God title.

 _Calm down,_ Fruit firmly told himself. _It’s just a fluke. A one-time thing. You’ll perform better next time._

But then a horrible thought popped into his head.

**_What if his win was a fluke?_ **

… 

Was Fruit really that good? Or did his opponents just do badly in the last Championship?

He watched the two other Green Gods and H stand on the podium. Everybody was hollering and screaming for the top three performers. Of course Fruit was proud. They had all worked hard.

… Fruit had worked hard, didn’t he? Maybe it just wasn’t enough.

Fruit told himself not to care. That a stupid ranking didn’t mean anything. That he was still a well respected speedrunner and PvPer and trapper. That being 14th was okay. He was in the top 35% of the participants.

It still kinda hurt.

…

Scratch that. It just _hurt._

And suddenly it was like he never won the 6th Championship. He was back to the drawing board, back to fighting for people’s appreciation. The third Green God, forgotten and ignored by his peers. Just like how it used to be.

_“Wow, look at Fruitberries being a sore loser. His ego can’t handle it.”_

Fruit could already imagine people talking about him. His muscles stiffened and he squared his shoulders. He staunchly ignored the stares of his peers and marched towards H.

“HEY!” Fruit screamed in an admittedly-not-loud voice. H was carrying his teammate Fwhip on his shoulders, and Fruit realized Fwhip was probably the first 3-G student to win. The hermits and the crafters surrounded Fwhip, cheering, ecstatic that one of them won.

“Congratulations!” Fruit whooped, clapping his hands. “Holy shit. That was a really intense Dodgebolt!”

H smiled at him, but Fruit’s voice was quickly overpowered by the rest of their friends cheering for them. Feeling a little awkward, Fruit turned to Techno’s team to congratulate them on getting second. But their team was getting hugged by a sobbing Stan Twitt, and Fruit could barely get closer.

“MY UWU BOIS!” Stan screamed, tears staining Philza’s shirt. “My Orange Piglets had their happy ending denied!! SCREW THE GREEN GUARDIANS! NFNSNFJSJJDAJJS!!11!”

Techno and Fruit shared pained looks. “Umm,” Fruit began.

“Don’t worry, Technoblade-chan,” Stan sniffled. “I’ll rig it so you’ll win the 8th Championship! WAAaaAAAaAA! Screw HBomb! Screw Eret! Screw Pete! And whoever-that-3-G-student’s-name-is!!” 

Not knowing what to say, Fruit offered, “Congrats?” The Orange Piglets, still trapped in Stan Twitt’s arms, didn’t seem to have heard Fruit, but smiled politely at him. And Fruit knew that was all he was going to get.

… All around Fruit were people screaming and jumping up and down. Everyone was cheering for the victors of the 7th Championship. Pete, H, Fwhip, Eret, Technoblade, Dream. And the thirteen other students who did better than Fruit. And—

Fruit knew he didn’t belong here.

…

Maybe he never did. He didn’t have as much clout as anyone else. He didn’t have a lot of friends. And his friends had their friends anyway. And Illumina wasn’t there with him. Yes, he was a Green God, but he was probably nothing compared to the other two. Everyone just saw him as “the green guy who isn’t Dream”. Fruit had been told that so many times, he almost dyed his hair to a different colour.

Everything faded into white noise as he hurried away, suddenly desperate to get away from people. His footsteps thudded on the ground, and he half-wished someone would call after him.

No one did. Fruit was relieved, yet irrationally disappointed. 

Fruit vaguely thought of calling Illumina, but he knew he would be busy. And it would be such a stupid reason to call him. 

And of course calling H was not an option. He just _won,_ for fuck’s sake. H didn’t need to be bothered by Fruit complaining about getting a slighter worse (but still pretty good) rank. 

Fruit supposed he would just stew in his emotions for a while until he stopped being cringey and shit. His feet carried him away from the main campus. Fruit was tired after the Championship, but he walked faster and faster, powered by his angst. 

Fruit didn’t _care_ , okay? He wasn’t supposed to care! He was supposed to be chill and happy!

(But he just wanted to be accepted, he wanted to be recognized for who he was, he wanted to make friends, and holy _shit_ did he miss Illumina, why couldn’t he be there—)

There was a hill near the main campus, and Fruit found himself blindly running towards there. Maybe his green hair could blend into the bushes and trees, and he could hide from whatever he was running from. Fruit laughed, but it was a hollow laugh.

He brushed past branches and stumbled up the hill. Fruit hadn’t been there before, but it seemed like a nice place to be on his own. He could be concealed, sheltered. He could melt into the greenery.

He could disappear.

And no one would ever notice or care. 

Fruit found a tree, and noiselessly sat down underneath it. He curled up into a little ball, hugging his knees to his chest. He shifted the leaves so they covered his head. It was nice and cozy and tranquil and silent. He shut his eyes. 

Seconds ticked into minutes. Fruit had no idea how long he stayed there, but he knew he accidentally fell asleep. He was woken up by a clap of thunder and wet drops of rain landing on his skin. Fruit internally groaned. His pathetic leafy hiding spot did nothing to shelter him. _Great. Of **course** it’s raining to suit my mood._

(Sometimes Fruit wondered if he was just some angsty teenage loner in a badly-written half-crack, half-salt fic.)

Fruit yanked his lime hoodie over his head and searched for some _real_ shelter. In the distance, he saw a vague outline of a stone structure with a purple dome. It seemed like a pavilion… of sorts. In the middle of the woods. Which was perfectly normal. Not weird at all.

Panting, Fruit dashed towards the pavilion, his clothes getting completely drenched. He flung himself on one of the stone benches in the pavilion, and exhaled. He took off his soaking wet hoodie, and his phone fell out.

Ah. That was right. Fruit checked to see if he had missed anything while he was sleeping. Nothing. No texts, no phone calls, no anything.

_Fuck it._

Fruit called Illumina. The _“beep, beep”_ echoed throughout the area. Fruit winced, hating how his phone sounded especially loud in the silence. Fruit stared at his phone, waiting for Illumina to pick up. He stared. And stared.

“ _Beep, beep, beep…”_

Maybe Fruit was lucky. Maybe Illumina had turned on his phone. 

_“Beep, beep, beep…_ ”

Or maybe not, and he was just annoying Illumina.

 _“Beep, beep, be_ —”

It was too much for Fruit. He hung up before the call was even connected. The jarring noise of his phone just reminded him of how alone he was, in some goddamn pavilion, on a hill. Because everyone else had cool shit to do, and Fruit was just being emo.

Why was he so sad? He wasn’t supposed to care. 

He curled up into a ball again, and shivered. The rain had soaked through his skin, now chilling his bones. His stomach rumbled, and he winced. Not only was he tired, sad, but he was also hungry and cold. Fruit regretted every one of his decisions, until—

Footsteps.

_“Hello?”_

Fruit’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked up.

* * *

_And a rock feels no pain_

_And an island never cries_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Wilbur did wave at False and False did shake her head in MCC7 Battle Box although that was after Orange won that round. They both laughed, and I think it’s really funny and cute lmao. (Yes I am also exposing myself, I don’t watch DSMP but I like Wilbur hhhhhh—)
> 
> Yeah Technoblade Bias. Yeah Technoblade Redemption Arc. I don’t even watch Techno but he simped for Grian and also screamed “FALSE ACE” so I guess he’s alright. If you’re nice to the hermits, you get a redemption arc. It’s as simple as that.
> 
> I feel bad for neglecting Eret in the Green Guardians but the hermits don’t really know him compared to Pete, H and Fwhip lol. Also RIP Seapeekay and Philza. This is what happens when you don’t team with the hermits /j
> 
> Lyrics mentioned here are from Battle Scars by Paradise Fears, Mr. Bad Guy by Freddie Mercury, and I Am A Rock by Simon & Garfunkel. (Yeah I'm shamelessly using songs from Frostbyte's playlist.)
> 
> Speaking of playlists, I also made one lol. It has spoilers. Hmm.
> 
> https://riacte.tumblr.com/post/640844034752102400/battle-scars-playlist
> 
> ALSO TsunamiStarz wrote a super pog fic inspired by this one, and I really like it, so please give it a read :D
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582955/chapters/70773576#workskin
> 
> I KNOW I said I have mocks, but y'all are being so nice and supportive and I love writing this fic lmao. I promise I'll take a break after this one- (This probably won't age well.)
> 
> Once again thank you so much for your sweet comments, I appreciate every one of them :D Please tell me your thoughts :DD and who do you think found Fruit lol? :]


	10. Somebody to Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fruitberries is sad, False comforts him, Fruit visits the hermits' place, everyone loves Fruit, Fruit is content, everyone has a GoodTime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to: Fruit being an angsty sad teenage boy for no damn reason (read: self projection LMAO). There’s a lot of S6 references here because I finally downloaded the HC6 map and I’m in love. Also I don’t know how these kids are creating megabases in this fic. Maybe it’s as H said: the hermits are built differently. 
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: this fic has no shipping! I don't intend for any interactions to be read as romantic. Also I'm trying to create a safe space for everyone, for shippers and non-shippers, but when I was told this fic seemed kinda shippy, my brain straight up BROKE for two hours, sooo if you see them as shippy just don't tell me lmao. I think the most important thing is to respect the CCs. And just in case you don't know, Ren is chaotic horny on main, literally shared "Renskall Island" with Iskall, commented "SHIP RENDOC", said Doc is hot, so Ren is just Really That in his videos. 
> 
> (Bonus: if it seems shippy, it's probably because I spent four years prior writing nothing but cheesy highschool romcoms, and some of the style stuck haha-)
> 
> By the way, the "villains" here are just to act as obstacles to our heroes, it's not meant to be a realistic portrayal of who they are irl. In fact, NONE of these are supposed to be realistic and accurate portrayals. Just taking inspiration from stuff that happened.

_I've built walls_

_A fortress deep and mighty_

_That none may penetrate_

_Hiding in my room, safe within my womb_

_I touch no one and no one touches me_

_I am a rock_

_I am an island_

* * *

_“Hello?”_

Fruit’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked up. 

A blonde hermit stared down at him with a surprised expression. Fruit swallowed.

“Hi…” Fruit replied cautiously. He suddenly felt like he shouldn’t be here at all. Like he’d wandered into someone’s cozy little world without invitation. Leaving the victors’ territory just to enter the hermits’ territory, never finding a place to belong to. But at the same time, he was so glad to see another person, even if it was one he barely knew. 

False sat down next to him, a large bag in her hands. She folded her hands on her lap, then absentmindedly raised them, as if she couldn’t decide what to do with them. Fruit watched as she resorted to wiping raindrops off her goggles. “Fancy seeing you here,” she said after a pause.

Fruit laughed, but his laughter quickly died down. He recalled why he was here— he was feeling irrationally upset after the 7th Championship, and decided to _run away_ for some reason. God. He was so pathetic. 

“Where is this place, actually?” He asked in an effort to keep the conversation going. “The 3-H classroom?”

“No, but it’s on our hill, so it’s technically our space. We’re quite a bit away from our classroom though.”

Fruit stared down at his hands. “Oh.”

Fruit felt awkward and misplaced. False was nice, but he didn’t really know her. Not to mention she had caught him in a vulnerable position— he was soaking and rolled up in a ball. Plus Fruit didn’t want to talk about his so-called problems, especially with someone he wasn’t close with. (Heck, even if, let’s say, Illumina was there, he wouldn’t say much. Because his problems were really stupid and he didn’t deserve any attention or comfort.)

Fruit’s stomach rumbled, and he winced. He hadn’t eaten anything after the Championship and he was seriously regretting it. HBomb the boomer would certainly yell at him. 

“You want a banana?”

Fruit stared at False, then at the banana in her outstretched hand. If it was any consolation, she looked as awkward as he was. Not in the “you make me uncomfortable” way, but in the “how do you interact with people again?” way. Here he was, feeling lonely and sad and cold and all that shit and False was offering a _banana—_

That was, funnily enough, _exactly_ what he needed.

False noticed he needed help and offered it without prying. She cared about him without it getting personal. 

“Thanks,” he abruptly said, and took the banana. He munched on it without a second thought, glad to have something in his stomach. He demolished it within seconds, but his hunger wasn’t satisfied.

“Sorry, you ate my emergency banana,” False told him. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a container of iced cookies. “But I do have these. They’re not as filling, but they’ll do.”

“Thank you.” Fruit was too mystified by the concept of an “emergency banana” to do anything other than accept the food.

He stared at the cookies. No doubt they were homemade, judging from the squiggly lines of icing. The cookies looked like a variety of things— mushrooms, cats, dragons, jellyfish, just to name a few. False must have put in a lot of effort to make these for the hermits, and Fruit felt bad for eating them.

False must have read his mind, because she immediately said, “It’s alright, I made too many cookies anyway.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Rain dripped down as he munched on the cookies. False told him she wanted to work on her purple domed pavilions after the Championship (so she did make those), but she forgot to bring an umbrella, so they were both stuck there until the rain stopped. “Unless,” False said, “we use those big leafy plants for cover, but I spent too much time terraforming the area and I’m _not_ going to rip the leaves off.”

“Understandable.” Fruit looked down at his cookie, which could be best described as a caricature of Stan Twitt complete with an exaggerated “UwU” face. Fruit bit the cookie, and watched with satisfaction as Stan Twitt’s icing face cracked. He took out a cookie with another recognizable face. He blinked, and wondered if he was seeing things.  
“Wait. That’s me, isn’t it?”

False peered over his shoulder and chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah. That’s you. You’re the hermits’ patron saint along with Pete and H because you three are nice to us.”

“Oh.” Fruit didn’t know what to say. “I thought you just drew Dream really badly.” 

Upon mentioning Dream, False scoffed. “Does everyone mistake you for Dream?”

“A surprising amount of people do,” Fruit told her. “Like, I mean, we’re both green and we have smiley faces, and we have similar skill sets, but the difference should be obvious, yeah? People still call me not-Dream.”

“A _shame_ ,” False said. Fruit could tell from her tone that she was trying not to laugh. “I’ll tell you something embarrassing— a few months ago, I kept on mistaking Dream as you. My brain could _not_ remember the most popular student for some stupid reason, and kept subsituting you in.” 

“Really? That’s honestly a first.” Fruit was now entertained. He suddenly decided he liked False. To hear that someone remembered him more firmly than Dream was quite funny.

“Anyways, it became a running gag and the hermits made fun of me,” False deadpanned. “But it all worked out in the end, since you helped us quite a bit, so Fruitberries is now our patron saint. Dream is the guy who isn’t you or Pete, and also the guy Grian killed when he went bananas.”

“... You guys don’t like Dream?”

False’s eyes dimmed like she was recalling something unpleasant. “I generally don’t trust the main campus students. Excluding 3-G and my old teammates, of course. And especially not the popular kids from 3-A. Dream hasn’t really done anything except for hitting me too much in Survival Games, but I’m wary of most 3-A students. Except you, of course. And H and Pete.”

Fruit frowned slightly. “Sorry, that was a dumb question. You’re hermits after all. How about Techno?”

False shrugged. “He did help us… but truth be told, I’m scared of him. Wilbur seems nice, but I know too little about him.”

“I see, I see. I know I sound biased, but the 3-A people aren’t as bad as they seem,” Fruit told her. 

“I know,” False immediately replied, then she sighed. “But I suppose it’s better to be safe than sorry…”

Now Fruit could see the greenery around them was carefully constructed, with bushes and flowers and even some adorable mushrooms. Fruit felt at ease here, at False’s elegant and detailed pavilions. The shade of purple wasn’t jarring or too pale, it was just right. He could see a clocktower further away, and a… stone bridge that connected False’s various builds? 

“Wait.” Fruit wrinkled his nose. “Are those aqueducts?”

False lifted her head. “Yep. Didn’t expect it to rain, but now we can see the aqueducts in action! I didn’t expect it to work so well, to be honest. I guess Cub and Tango’s calculations were right.”

They both watched the water trickle down the aqueducts. The sight was soothing, and Fruit found himself relaxing, the knots in his muscles loosening. It was a welcome change from the hectic and loud life at the main campus. “I really like what you’ve got here,” he said after a quiet moment. 

“Ohh, it’s not even close to being finished,” False replied instantly. “And a couple more hermits are working on projects here… like Tango’s stuff and Ren’s tower.” She nodded at the builds in the distance. “We’re all going for a fantasy style.”

Fruit squinted at another tower with a faintly recognizable shape, half-hidden by the mist. “... Hey, that kinda looks like your clocktower.” he pointed out.

“Yup, that’s Ren’s. He used the exact proportions of my tower. We’re working together in this area, and we don’t watch our styles to clash.”

They fell quiet again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable silence. Fruit ate the cookies. False took out her notebook and started sketching. Neither of them said a word, but they enjoyed each other’s company. 

Fruit decided he liked spending time with False. She was nice without being _too_ nice and overbearing. Plus, instead of asking him to talk about his problems, she entertained him by talking about the hermits’ builds. Fruit loved H, he really did, but he could be a bit too aggressive and assertive and _loud._ Not that that was a problem! It was just that sometimes, Fruit needed peace and quiet. 

Fruit gazed at the hermits’ projects, eyes wide as he took in all the details. He was already impressed by what a single hermit could achieve. He wondered how fantastic would collaborations between hermits look. Away from the main campus, an entirely different world was thriving, and everyone was happy and content here. 

“It must be nice,” Fruit muttered. “You can freely do stuff with your best friends. Unaffected by any drama that happens on the main campus.”

He could see False glance at him from his peripheral vision. Shit, did he accidentally sound wistful? Thankfully False didn’t ponder on it for long, choosing to take out her phone. Fruit trained his eyes on the fat raindrops sliding off leaves. 

“So… what are you gonna do?”

Fruit spun to look at False. False cleared her throat. “I mean, what are you going to do when the rain lets up?”

Fruit snuck a look at his phone. “Uhhhh… I dunno. Go home? Take a shower?” He shrugged. “I don’t have much to do.”

“Well, youcanvisitourclassroomifyouwant.”

Fruit blinked. “P-pardon?”

False looked embarrassed, her fingers nervously playing with her hair. “You can… visit 3-H if you want?” she repeated, this time slower. “We don’t get a lot of visitors, but I’m sure the hermits won’t mind.”

“Oh! That sounds great, actually. Would love to see your stuff.”

Fruit didn’t know why he sounded so unenthusiastic. He was genuinely excited, and he felt honored. Granted, he didn’t know much about 3-H or crafting, since his expertise was in speedrunning and trapping, but he adored what he’d been shown so far. Plus it would be a welcome distraction from his musing.

… Maybe it was because he felt like was intruding. Fruit wasn’t a crafter by any means. In all honesty, he didn’t belong with the hermits.

“Only if you guys are fine with it,” Fruit hastily added. “I know you guys keep to yourselves, and you get wary of outsiders, sooo… yeeeah.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I just texted the hermits, and everyone’s cool.”

The rain gradually came to a stop, and sunlight filtered through the leaves. It was late afternoon, but it was summer, so the sky was still bright. Fruit deeply inhaled the scent of petrichor, and felt comfortable. 

“Let’s go.” False stood up. They emerged from the pavilion, and Fruit could finally get a good look at the hermits’ creations. “The colours look even better now in the light,” he remarked.

“That’s why we don’t like rain. And ooh, you’ve got to see Stress’ glass art here.” False gestured at the giant glass butterflies and dragonflies that dotted the area. When the sun shone through them, soft yet colourful shadows painted the ground. 

“That’s enchanting.” Fruit couldn’t tear his eyes away from the glass creatures. How could someone make something that suited the surroundings so well?

“This is just a small corner of our world,” False told him. She seemed pleased by Fruit’s reaction. “Come on, we’ve got lots to see.”

The two of them walked over bridges, which were made out of wood, stone or something else entirely, and passed by a frightening number of chests (“We call them Chestmonsters. Scar has the biggest.”). It was sweet how the hermits tried to make places accessible with signs and half-finished roads. Fruit glanced at the symbols etched on the wooden signs. “Fancy,” he quipped.

“That’s Cub’s work. He _loves_ making designs with cool symbols.”

“Our classroom’s on top of the hill,” False informed Fruit. “There’s a road on the other side, but since we’re developing the area on _this_ side, we came up with a pretty cool transport network.” She brushed some leaves out of the way, revealing a tower built in a similar style to her purple pavilions. There were two zip lines connecting the tower to somewhere higher up. “Welcome to the HRN!” False announced. “The Hermit Railway Network. We say it’s a railway even though we mostly use zip lines, but HZN doesn’t quite roll off the tongue as well, does it?”

“Hey Falsie! Fruityloops!”

Fruit glanced up to see Ren on the tower, beaming and waving down at them. 

“Hi!” False called out, also grinning. She then whispered to Fruit, “HRN is Ren’s baby. He started the HRN, but other hermits have contributed. Like how I made this station.”

“I can tell.” Purple domed buildings seemed to be False’s speciality. (Not that Fruit knew anything about building.)

The two went up the tower to meet up with Ren, who explained the mechanics of the HRN. “We used a bit of redstone to power us up the hill. I suck at redstone, so I had to get Daddy Iskall to help me. Anywhoozle, this works similarly to Rocket Spleef. Just strap yourself in and boom! You’re off!”

So the trio zoomed up the hill, with Ren and False enthusiastically introducing the hermits’ creations to Fruit. Fruit was absolutely baffled by the sheer size and details of the builds, and even more so when the hermits kept on insisting they weren’t done. “You guys are insane,” he kept on marvelling. 

“ _You’re_ the one who’s insane,” Ren replied. “I mean, your PvP skills? Man. It’s crazy.” Fruit couldn’t help but smile at the praise.

“Thanks for coming here at such short notice,” Fruit heard False say to Ren.

“No problem. Wasn’t planning on doing much this afternoon, to be honest.”

The wind blew past Fruit’s hair, and he couldn’t help but smile. Being a speedrunner and trapper, he didn’t use zip lines often, but he appreciated how carefree and light he felt. He was used to sprinting and parkour, but using zip lines was way faster. Plus the view was fantastic. Fruit laughed and waved his arms, appreciating the freedom of soaring through the air. 

“LET’S GOOOO!” he cheered. “I could do this all day!” Behind him, False and Ren laughed.

And in that glorious moment, Fruit felt like he could leave all his problems behind.

* * *

_I don't even need to change the world_

_I'll make the moon shine just for your view_

_I'll make the starlight circle the room_

* * *

To be honest, False didn’t know how to talk to Fruit.

After the 7th Championship, she and the hermits returned to the 3-H classroom. After all, it was their happy place. After a quick shower and snack (they built showers in 3-H for convenience), False made her way down to her purple pavilions. She wasn’t planning to build (she was too tired for that); she just wanted to work on her designs. Unfortunately, it started to rain.

It was then she saw a sopping wet Fruit, curled up in a ball, looking sad and lonely. 

Fruit didn’t look okay at all, but False knew it was definitely not her place to pry. She _could_ try to work out what happened to him, but False didn’t want to make assumptions since she thought that was disrespectful. Plus, Fruit looked vulnerable, and False wasn’t going to take advantage of that. 

Despite that, she wanted to help Fruit. She’d caught glimpses of Fruit at the main campus, like when he was bullied in the 1st Championship, or when he tried to catch people’s attention but failed. But _how_ to help him was the real question. 

False didn’t know why she decided to offer a _banana_ of all things, but Fruit looked relieved when she did, so she supposed it worked out in the end? 

(Fruit would probably prefer someone who was better with people, like Ren. But False was the one there for Fruit, and she wasn’t going to whine about it and drown in her self pity.)

They didn’t speak much, but False noticed Fruit seemed to like it when she talked about the hermits’ projects. So False had the bright idea to invite him over for a tour. 3-H didn’t do tours, but her classmates would make an exception for their patron saint, right? Plus Fruit was at the hermits’ hill already. And it would make Fruit happier, even if just by a bit. Maybe looking at pretty stuff could temporarily distract Fruit from whatever he was facing. 

So False asked, and Fruit agreed to the tour. False decided she wanted someone with her in case things got awkward, so she hurriedly texted her Championship buddy Ren. Good thing he was available. Having friends next to her, especially someone as easygoing as Ren, made her less stressed. Her shoulders sagged with relief when she saw Ren at the HRN station. 

“Grian’s going to flip out, isn’t he?” Ren whispered to False as they zip lined up the hill.

False snorted. “For sure. He’s probably doing that in chat right now.”

The 3-H building soon came into view. It was way larger now, with the addition of two towers, one made out of white concrete, the other out of stone. Iskall’s Omega Tree of Doom that he imported from somewhere stood tall and proud beside the building. Colourful crystals, courtesy of Scar, were dotted around the area. Cub’s half-finished pyramid loomed imposingly in the background, the golden tip glinting in the sunlight. A little further away, they could hear industrial farms ticking. Scar’s gigantic flowers and plants curled around the roof of the main building, while blue nether vines dangled from the roof. They could hear someone hysterically laughing in the pond, which now had a water slide and palm trees. Next to False, Fruit gaped, stunned by the beauty of 3-H.

“This is… an explosion on the eyes,” Fruit admitted. “In a good way, of course.”

“Welcome to 3-Hermitcraft, Fruit!”

Xisuma, Etho, and Hypno were chatting outside the main building. They smiled politely at Fruit. Fruit looked dazed and delighted to see one of the most popular students Mr. Ethoslab himself. Xisuma immediately went into “dad mode” upon seeing Fruit.

“Oh goodness, are you cold? Your clothes are all wet. I’m sure we can find something for you.”

“Oh… there’s no need.”

“We don’t want you to get sick!” Xisuma exclaimed. “Although we won’t force you if you don’t want to. By the way, would you like some pumpkin pie? I think some just came out of the oven.”

Fruit laughed. “I just ate… but I’m hungry again. Some pie would be nice, thanks.”

“Alright! One freshly baked pie coming up!”

At first False was a little worried Fruit would feel overwhelmed around the hermits, but he seemed to be doing fine. And doing better than he was before, when she found him on the pavilion. 

… And seeing Fruit being happy made her feel happy too.

* * *

_I never had nobody and no road home_

_I wanna be somebody to someone_

_And if the sun's upset and the sky goes cold_

_Then if the clouds get heavy and start to fall_

_I really need somebody to call my own_

**_I wanna be somebody to someone_ **

* * *

The hermits were kind to Fruit, but not in a patronizing or ingenuine way. They respected his space, and didn’t press when Fruit said he didn’t want something. Fruit had met a lot of nice people, but the hermits were just so… chill. So calm even when someone they respected visited them. Even though Fruit was a little intimidated, he felt comfortable with them. Many of his peers in 3-A were dramatic and noisy, which Fruit enjoyed, but it was great to find a community of people as chill as he was. 

Iskall and Mumbo enthusiastically introduced Fruit to their Pacific shop that was “revolutionary” and “very Pacific”. (Fruit didn’t know “Pacific” could be used as an adjective.) Xb and Bdubs were discussing interiors, using jargon that Fruit didn’t know but was fascinated with. Doc and Cleo were having a heated discussion about politics, but paused to let Fruit see the beautiful and lifelike statues Cleo created (he heard those were her speciality). Fruit didn’t understand how Cleo could make a lump of wood so detailed in different ways. “This is dope as hell!” he exclaimed. 

Next were Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, who was testing some strange contraption featuring a water stream, an arrow, a dummy, and a piece of green glass (no, Fruit did not understand what was going on. He felt like his tour guides False and Ren didn’t either). Upon learning that Fruit was a trapper, they excitedly rambled about their own redstone traps. They were good, but too time and resource consuming for someone like Fruit who valued efficiency and cost effectiveness. He shared his own traps, which were less sophisticated, but still they had a wonderful time exchanging ideas. 

All the hermits kept on mentioning Tango’s partially finished minigame, Decked Out. “It’s like Sands of Time, but way cooler and scarier,” Ren described. Fruit’s ears perked up. “I’m interested,” he declared.

Tango let him walk through part of Decked Out as a treat. The music, which had also been composed by the hermits, gave the minigame a more mysterious and threatening aura. The clanging of the bells in Sands of Times were ominous, but it was nothing compared to the _ba-bump, ba-bump_ that mimicked the player’s heartbeat. When Fruit took a wrong step, a noise emitted, showing he had accumulated “clank” and increased his risk of being in danger. Consequently, his “heartbeat” sped up, and Fruit felt chills go down his spine. Decked Out was thrilling and beautifully immersive, even in its half completed stage. 

“DUDE!” Fruit had screamed when he dashed out of Decked Out. “MR. TANGO! This is amazing! Holy shi—”

Impulse nudged Tango. “See, I told you everyone loves Decked Out. No need to worry.”

“I can’t believe you made that,” Fruit marvelled. “Like the mechanics and everything… you’re insane. All of you are insane.”

They found Joe and Stress at the flower field. Joe was sprouting something philosophical, while Stress was gushing about “plonkers” and “geezers”. Stress weaved him a flower crown from sunflowers (“to give you joy!”) and Fruit gladly took it. Fruit didn’t understand what Joe was talking about, but he understood Joe meant well. Halfway through, Cleo barged in and acted as Joe’s “translator”, with Joe insisting Cleo was simplifying his words. It was wholly chaotic, but fun.

Two figures suddenly appeared, and Fruit thought they were both hermits, but then False told him one of them was a clone. They were Wels and Hels, Wels and his evil counterpart. They started rapping in front of him, and Fruit whooped, enjoying the roasts. Jevin, with a shulker box in his hands, stopped by to say hi to Fruit and thank him for defending him at the 1st Championship.

Beef and Keralis were chatting at Keralis’ miniature city with its detailed planes and buildings. Fruit cackled when he saw the infamous “Four Seasons Landscaping Hotel”. Swiftly after that, they exchanged words with TFC, whose calm demeanor Fruit admired. It was also refreshing to meet someone who didn’t have ambitious plans to build something mega and gorgeous (although he’d been told TFC was a mining beast. All of the hermits were so hardworking.)

Cub proudly showed Fruit around, from the extravagant lapis lazuli ceiling in his pyramid to the colourful murals on his walls. Fruit chomped on cinnamon buns as Cub explained his thought process and his ideas. “And that’s not even half of it,” Cub declared. “I have big plans for this.”

“I can see,” Fruit chuckled. “Really big plans for sure.”

They finally went into the classroom after exploring the sights outside. Fruit was told that this building was jointly designed by Grian, Scar and Bdubs, three of the best builders 3-H had to offer. Scar cheerfully greeted them, hands full of art books. “Nice to see you, Fruityloops! Welcome to the wonderful world of hermits and crafting!” It was cute to see Scar had adopted Ren’s way of saying his name. Fruit vaguely remembered Scar as the one who was knocked down by the bullies after the 5th Championship. Now he knew why the hermits were so protective of him— Scar was a ray of sunshine, and he always sounded like he was smiling. 

The instant Fruit stepped in, he knew the 3-H classroom was the heart of the hermit community. The wooden walls were covered with a myriad of photos and artwork and posters, and everybody had something different on their desk to personalize it. Ren had a miniature Darth Vader tower, while False had little cat figurines. Scar walked around the classroom and attempted to explain the chaos that was going on the walls, but it felt like not even him could understand it. To Scar’s distress, Scar’s cat Jellie was sitting on the router. “Oh no, Jellie!” he cried out, and rushed over to pick her up. Jellie meowed and sniffed Fruit, then turned her head away.

“Come on, Jellie, don’t be mean!” Scar mock scolded Jellie. He used a finger to boop Jellie’s nose. 

“Ummm, hello?”

A nervous, high-pitched voice behind him. Fruit turned. 

Grian. The only hermit Fruit hadn’t met, yet it was one Fruit knew because Grian was so famous. “Hi,” Fruit replied, a little cautiously. 

“Hi, Fruity B,” Grian said bashfully. “I’m a big fan. I-I love your stuff. You’re awesome.”

Fruit’s heart warmed. “Umm, your stuff’s great too. Building rustic houses and,” he gestured, “starting wars?”

Grian giggled, and nudged Scar. “What have you guys been telling him? Fruity B’s gonna hate me,” he whined. Scar glared at him.

“You stole my Baby Yoda like three times! You cruel, evil man!” Scar spluttered out.

“Anyways,” Grian switched the topic and turned to Fruit, “I’m really happy to finally speak to you! Oh wait, I haven’t even introduced myself!” Grian started to look flustered, and burst out, “My name is Grian, I like cats, building, aaaand definitely not starting wars.”

Fruit chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, we all know who you are, Grian. You’re pretty well known.”

Fruit could see Ren, False and Scar exchange glances. “What are you guys thinking?” he asked curiously. 

“Nothing!” False replied in a bright tone that obviously meant there was something. “It’s just Grian’s usually a lot more… passionate.” Her eyebrows jerked up. 

“Yep, yep,” Ren chimed in innocently. “Usually G won’t shut up about you, Fruityloops. He probably was so shy he waited for everyone to speak to you.”

Grian gaped at his friends, mock-offended. “Okay, fine. I can’t hold this any longer.” He took a deep breath, then literally screamed, “ ** _I LOVE YOU FRUITY BEE!_** You’re seriously the best! And you’re so cool and friendly and—”

Fruit was surprised as Grian rambled on and on. Out of all hermits, Grian was the “least chill” so far, but he was also shy and bashful, and he always looked up to see if Fruit was weirded out. Fruit was faintly reminded of how HBomb screamed about his achievements, but Grian was polite and a bit more anxious about Fruit’s reactions.

Fruit honestly didn’t know what to say after Grian’s spiel. His heart felt warm and full. “Thanks, Grian,” he replied sincerely. “...That means a lot.”

Grian beamed. “Anyways, I hope you’re enjoying your time here.”

“Oh, I sure am! You guys are pretty cool.”

Fruit found himself drawn to the walls. On the walls were handwritten posters, with hermits trying to exchange commodities such as ink and logs, and an especially noticeable sign that screamed “TAKE MY GREEN DYE!! IT’S CLOGGING UP MY STORAGE!”. There were also tons and tons of photos of the hermits in various outfits, all with bright smiles. Some photos were noticeably more blurry, probably because the cameraman was laughing so much. There were words doodled next to them— “The chicken in a Grian costume” “Convex!” “Wormman” “Avenge Baby Yoda!!” “Shashwamivoid” “Base buddies <3” “We’re Professional Minecrafters!” and more. Fruit didn’t understand any of it since they were all inside jokes. The words were in different handwriting and in different colours, meaning it was a place any hermit could add anything to. Fruit even saw a few hasty scribbles of “Grian was here”. Next to that was “An Omega List (of Doom) of Words Iskall Doesn’t Know” with words like “dinky” and “turd”. Fruit wanted to laugh, but he suddenly felt like he didn’t have the right to. After all, he didn’t know these people. But they knew each other so, so well. 

… These people had let them into their secret world. Fruit was welcomed, but he knew he didn’t belong. He stared at the photos of the hermits, now recognizing their joyous faces, but realizing he couldn’t relate at all. These hermits had a place they called home, and Fruit knew, he fucking _knew_ they wouldn’t allow anyone in it without good reason. It wasn’t because they were pretentious and thought they were better than anyone or something.

It was because they were family. And the family loyally clung to each other. No matter what happened, they always had 3-Hermitcraft. 

…

They always had a home, someplace to return to, some _one_ to return to.

…

It was really sweet.

...

Fruit turned, and caught sight of some photos of the hermits at the Championship. Ren and False were always on the same team. They were like two peas in a pod. They were different from Fruit, who asked to be with someone new every time. He was a “lone wolf”, and usually he didn’t care. He liked meeting new people.

But then he met the hermits and discovered how loyal and loving they were to each other. While his other friends HBomb and Techno roleplayed revolutions and wars with Dream’s friends, Fruit was a speedrunner and trapper at heart. He was always striving to improve himself in the tournaments and competitions he participated in. Sure, he had his friends and the speedrunning community, and he’d speedran a bunch with Illumina, but ultimately, for him, speedrunning was a solo hobby. He didn’t do cute crafting shit like the hermits did. And while Fruit knew working with a big group could be overwhelming, after the tour—

He suddenly wouldn’t mind. 

He suddenly wouldn’t mind at all. 

Fruit was frozen as he gazed at photos, gazed at the memories he never experienced and never shared. Fruit blinked, and told himself he was _okay_ —

The hermits once again shared the daily antics they got up to. Fruit felt… appreciated. The hermits didn’t treat him any differently even though he was a stranger to most of them. It was like he always meant to be there with them, always meant to listen to their little jokes and funny conversations. Always meant to glance through the window into their intimate world. 

… And it was weird, wasn’t it? Because they _were_ strangers. And while Fruit hadn’t spoken a word about his stupid issues that stemmed from his stupid ranking, he felt… cared for. He didn’t need the hermits to be his therapists or whatever. He didn’t need them to dig deep into his heart and change his life or “save” him from his bulllshit. 

He just needed companionship.

He just needed confirmation that people _cared_ even though they didn’t know him. And the hermits cared, oh-so-casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Offering food and clothes, excitedly showing Fruit their projects, going “hey! I think you might like this!”. 

As multiple hermits had emphasised during his tour, the hermits all had different ways of contributing to their community. Be it Ren’s HRN or Cleo’s statues, or even smaller stuff like Bdubs forcing everyone to sleep and Keralis making sure Etho didn’t stay up till 5am. They fit like puzzle pieces together. 

The hermits really were a closely knit family. 

And they didn’t have room for even one more.

Fruit was honored for the chance to visit them. The hermits were a wonderful bunch, and he loved hanging out with them. But in the end, he knew didn’t belong—

And that was it. That was the truth.

 _But_ —

Fruit turned back to the photo-covered wall. Ren and False were in all of the Championship pics, occasionally featuring Cub and Grian. There were scribbled notes in messy handwriting: “we won’t get 9th this time!” “well that aged badly :P” “ren stop wearing weird outfits: a challenge” “Hermitcraft Represent!” “we’ll get into Dodgebolt one day! :D”

… The hermits were trying so hard to get better. And they weren’t going to give up. An idea struck Fruit. It sounded a little stupid, but Fruit had a desperate urge to get it out. 

Fruit turned to Ren and False. “Hey, I know the 7th Championship just ended, but will you guys join the 8th?”

They replied without even looking at each other. False replied with “for sure” at the same time Ren said “definitely”. 

“That’s great. I won’t be joining the next one, so, uh, want me to train you guys? I can be your sensei,” Fruit offered. 

“You don’t need to ‘repay’ us or something—”

“No, no, it’s not like that. I just wanna… I just think you’re cool people,” Fruit mumbled. 

(And he liked the hermits and wanted to spend more time with them outside of their hermit sphere.)

“I- you’ll do that? Train the hermits?” Ren asked in an incredulous tone.

“Yeahh, why not? I like you guys.” Fruit said it nonchalantly, but they could all see the smile on his face.

“That’s awesome!” False grinned at Fruit. “Thank you, Fruit!” She stretched out a hand and patted Fruit’s shoulder.

…

And just like that, oh-so-easily, Fruit was content.

* * *

_The kingdom come, the rise, the fall_

_The setting sun above it all_

_I just wanna be somebody to you_

* * *

The sun’s last rays had vanished when Fruit went down the hill. He took out his phone and mindlessly scrolled through his Twitter timeline, occasionally laughing at the shit his fans said.

And then unexpectedly, his phone rang. 

Fruit instantly accepted the call, his heart thumping. “Hello? Illumina?”

_“Hey Fruit! Super sorry for not answering earlier. I had a busy day. How are you?”_

“Oh hey! I’m doing good! Really!” Fruit laughed.

 _“You sound happier, Fruit.”_ Illumina’s tone was sincere.

“... Do I? Yeah, I probably do.”

 _“Awww, I’m happy for you. By the way, wanna hear about what happened today in my speedrun? It’s pretty stupid, so it might not be worth mentioning_ — _”_

“Ohh come on, I’ll listen to your stupid shit. And I’m sure it’s not stupid anyway.”

(Fruit remembered how just hours earlier, he was scared of burdening Illumina with _his_ stupid shit.)

_“Cool! So this morning, I was hunting for a fortress…”_

And for the rest of the ride home, Fruit didn’t feel alone at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to experience Ren say “Daddy Iskall” then you have to experience it too. Help. To make things worse, he said this during a collab with False. If False can't restrict his energy, then no one can. 
> 
> The Point I want to make this chapter is that sometimes you don't need to talk about deep shit to make someone happy. Especially if you don't know that someone well, like Fruit and the hermits here, but you can show your care in different ways. Had this thought after talking to @queensillian on tumblr about Hermit!Tommy AUs, and how hermits just kinda become Tommy's therapists despite not knowing him. 
> 
> Also, it's been a couple of weeks, and now that I can look at this with fresh eyes, the writing is definitely not my best, but I don't care because I'm not aiming for really good writing for Battle Scars. And bskdblasbajsba I didn't expect anyone to read this Oddly Specifc Crossover other than the three people who showed interest on tumblr?? I'm pleasantly shocked haha. Love you all <33
> 
> Lyrics are from I Am a Rock by Simon and Garfunkel and Someone to You by Banners.
> 
> ... I genuinely couldn't believe I thought I could cover MCC4-7 in a single chapter. Wtf was I high on. 
> 
> Next time: we get the Angst Fest that is MCC8 OwO
> 
> Please tell me what you think! Thanks for the continuous support :DD <333
> 
> (Btw I have Twitter now, maybe I can make Stan Twitt more annoying UwU)


	11. Hope is Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermitcraft fans get upset about being overshadowed, “Beandog”, Fruit trains False, Ren, Cub, and Pearl for the 8th Championship, H arrives at the scene, they enjoy their team jackets, the Yellow Yaks make a promise (or two).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say this one's gonna be angsty? Well nah, we need the build up for angst first ;)
> 
> This chapter will mention real events that happened on hermittwt on the 7th of February. It was hermittwt’s selfie day, but 404twt (George’s fanbase) suddenly decided to move it to the 7th, and hermittwt was upset because the one thing they had was “overshadowed”. Things escalated, but eventually, hermittwt decided to be wholesome and supportive instead, choosing to trend #hermittwtsupport and loudly declare their love for Hermitcraft and its fandom. Joehills himself even participated in the selfie day. 
> 
> Some dialogue here will be copied/ inspired by Twitter users that I will not name. I have modified some of them so they don’t represent the original users that tweeted them. 
> 
> Also shhh I know False didn’t practice for MCC8 but I’m going to make it this way for the Plot lol.

_I've been so good, I've been helpful and friendly_

_I've been so good, why am I feeling empty?_

_I've been so good, I've been so good this year._

* * *

Weeks before the 8th Championship, the entire school was already in a frenzy. Ever since a few Championships ago, certain rumours had circulated around the school, but nobody thought they would actually come true. And once the news was revealed, it spread around the school like wildfire, and even the elusive hermits knew about it less than an hour later. 

The best students of the school, Technoblade and Dream, were _finally_ teaming up.

Well technically, Michael and Burren were teaming up with Technoblade and Dream, but due to Techno and Dream’s massive clout, the other two were overlooked and ignored. Which was kinda sad, because they were also part of the four-person team. 

Hence the 8th Championship was hyped up like it had never been before, and the excitement had spread beyond the school. Noxcrew, Scott, and even Stan Twitt were stupefied by the attention given to Team Pink Parrots (most people only cared about Dreamnoblade, but it didn’t feel right to exclude _literally half of the freakin’ team_ ). People were talking about the legendary rivals teaming up, with whispers of Techno desperately trying to win following his loss in the 7th Championship. Would Techno get his revenge with help from Burren and Micheal? (Also Dream.)

“They’re totally gonna win,” Cub said when he talked about it with the hermits. He would be joining the 8th Championship along with the regulars False and Ren, plus Pearl from 3-G. They would be in team Yellow Yaks.

“Yeah, Reddit’s placing them first.” Rem sighed. “Oh well. Two of the top PvPers from 3-A, and they’re both members of the student council? So skilled that they’re well known beyond our school? And the two other teammates aren’t bad either. Isn’t this line up kinda unfair?”

“Like this school has ever been fair to anyone,” False retorted. “Well, I suppose this Championship will be a fan favourite. Until the hermits win, of course,” she stated it like it was a fact.

“Yup, yup, we’ll win one day.” Cub and Ren chimed in unison. 

After Fruit’s Hermitcraft tour, Fruit had offered to train the hermits, and by extension, their team. So that was why the three hermits made their way to the main campus one afternoon to meet up with Pearl and Fruit. But when they reached the ugly cobblestone box, there was quite the commotion going on. The hermits frowned and decided to approach it cautiously. After all, they tended to stay away from drama (because it just wasn’t worth it). 

To the hermits’ surprise, Herman Blur was stuck in the chaos, looking extremely distressed. He wrapped his fake angel wings around himself protectively, the flower crown on his head lopsided. Around Herman were a crowd of first and second years, raising signs, protesting something. Opposite of Herman’s gang were a massive hoard of fans, screeching and laughing, holding up photos of popular 3-A students. 

“Wait, Herman Blur’s in trouble?” False wondered out loud. “He tends to avoid discourse. What’s happening?”

“Herman!” Ren called out, jumping up and down to get Herman’s attention. “What’s up my dude?”

When Herman saw the hermits, they looked relieved. “Hey guys! These first and second years here are fans of Hermitcraft, and they’ve always had a selfie day on the 7th to, y’know, interact with other fans and promote Hermitcraft. It’s a way to show solidarity and love within a fandom. But apparently a huge community suddenly decided to change their date to the 7th, thus stealing our thunder, and everyone’s mad.”

People on both sides were shouting and yelling, and it was obvious which side had more support. To everybody’s annoyance, Stan Twitt was also there. Despite being overwhelmed, the Hermitcraft fans stood their ground. 

“What the fuck is a Hermitcraft,” somebody sneered. “If you’re like this you don’t have to worry about what’s in the vaccine. Haha, what an amazing comeback! Pat me on the back! Wow!”

“We’ve been here for a long time!” a hermit fan cried out. “I know we’re not as big, and the hermits are looked down, so can we _please_ just have this selfie day? To celebrate the existence of this fandom? Y’know, since y’all think the 3-Hermits are lame?”

“STOP HAVING SELFIE DAYS YOU ALL ARE UGLY AS FUCK,” Stan Twitt screeched, stomping on the ground like a hissy baby (but that would be a major disrespect to all babies). “FUCK YOU I STAN GOGY!”

“This is so sad,” someone else drawled melodramatically. “Nobody hurts my boyfriend George Not Found. Waaaa waaa.”

“Tbh, you guys are so _lameee_ ,” someone spat out, probably thinking they were smart for making a half-assed Heat Waves reference. Nobody could still comprehend how a Dreamnotfound fanfiction became the 2nd most kudosed work on Archive Of Our Own, which was quite the feat when Dream SMP had existed for less than a year. Oh, how had the Universe shifted. 

“Why the fuck did you choose to shift to the 7th? You were perfectly fine before, please let us have our two minutes of fame!” a hermit fan declared. 

“Y’all so bitchless omg,” was the very clever retort. 

“Listen, we don’t mind sharing days, but can you listen to us for one second?” another hermit fan cried out. “We’re overshadowed, and—“

A derisive laugh. “A fandom is _overshadowed?!_ This is MCYT School, shut the fuck up, care about real stuff.”

“It’s. Not. That. Serious.”

“This sounds so stupid to me.”

“Don’t even like Gogy but no.”

“Stop with the selfie days none of you are cute.”

Cub wrinkled his nose. “That’s _rude_.”

“Why would you call people ugly?” Ren demanded. “Everyone’s gorgeous. Stop making people feel even more insecure.”

“I mean… perhaps both sides are overreacting, but it’s pretty obvious one side is being more vocally toxic,” False pointed out. 

“Who gives a shit about Hermitcraft?!” some person scoffed. The hermit fans gasped, highly offended. Almost immediately, a fan stepped up and drawled, “ _Listen Grian_ —”

" _Nobody touches my bush._ _You’re done,”_ all the other fans continued in unison, creating a rather creepy echoey effect.

“Ohh, they’re gonna rap Hermitgang,” Ren muttered to False. “I’ve forgotten most of my lyrics, embarrassingly enough.”

Herman chuckled. “We can all sing Hermitgang at any given opportunity.” Behind him, the Hermitcraft fans were furiously rapping the lyrics in response to the ignorant person.

 ** _“Hermitgang, Hermitgang, Hermitgang,_** ” the fans chanted as the other side booed. The noise was getting louder and louder, and the situation was escalating rapidly. Several bystanders shook their heads, embarrassed. Stan Twitt was hopping up and down and screaming. 

“Stop making a fuss out of this!” Stan screeched. “Like I get you guys are small, and you want a bit of recognition, but just calm down! I mean, if my fandom was treated the same way, we would be pissed off too, just like you guys! Wait, what was the point I was trying to make again?”

Thankfully, there were calmer fans on both sides. “It’s not that serious,” a George fan explained. “Just do your stuff elsewhere. Like at your supposedly-tiny-but-actually-looks-great-classroom. Selfie days clash all the time.”

“Not involved in your fandoms, but communities get overshadowed all the time. It sucks, but we can’t change it.”

“But… aren’t you guys in fandoms for the interaction? Not the recognition.”

“I mean, true,” one of them sobbed. “We create remixes, songs, artwork, fanfiction, and much more. Hermitcraft community is one of the most wholesome I’d been in, but we just— we just—”

“ _We just want more people to appreciate the hermits!_ ” another burst out. “You’ve been sleeping on them, heck, even saying they’re not part of MCYT, when without them, we wouldn’t have what we have today. Bedwars, TNT Run, so many redstone farms, and—” tears spilled from their eyes, “—and yet they get so little recognition in comparison! We’re sick of it! Can’t you just _freakin’_ appreciate the hermits?!”

The three hermits shared glances, and decided to step up. They hurried to their upset fans, Herman Blur hot on their heels.

“Hey guys,” Ren said gently. “I understand that this is… distressing and you probably feel angry now, and thank you for defending us, but it’s not worth your energy. Please don’t let it drain you.” His blue eyes were soft and sincere. 

“Yeah, let them have their measly twenty four hours.” False patted the shoulders of her fans. “Hermitcraft has been around since 2012, and we’ve evolved and changed over the years. We have years of history and years to come. We survived all turbulent eras of MCYT, we survived the Minecraft drought, and we survived 3-H. Let them have their precious selfie day, since they don’t have that much time. We’ve been around for literally eight years.” A pause, and False turned to head to glance at Stan Twitt and co. “I’m joking. I’m going to be cancelled again,” she quietly chuckled. 

“It’s okay, we know our worth,” Cub reassured the fans. ‘We know _your_ worth. You’ve been loyally supporting us by watching and commenting on our content. Our community may not be the largest, but we love and support each other, and that’s all that matters.”

“Hey, lemme give you guys a hug,” Ren said with a smile. He tightly wrapped his arms around his crying fans. “There, there.”

“Howdy y’all! Heard you guys were in a crisis, I’m on my way.”

The hermits and their fans looked up, recognizing the voice. “Joe!” they cried out joyfully.

Joe was a calming presence in the fandom. Joe was calm, wise, witty, yet encouraging and caring at the same time. The fans wiped their tears off and giggled softly, probably a bit overwhelmed by how four of the hermits were there.

Joe took out his phone and snapped a selfie. “This is me trying to figure out what a selfie day is.” The fans cheered, delighted.

‘Hermitcraft Western Telegraph thinks that this is an amazing selfie.”

“You’re absolutely stunning, Joe!”

“For someone who doesn’t know what a selfie day is, you certainly did a great job, Hills of the Joe.”

Joe slung an arm around his fans. “It’s like Ren said, it’s not worth your energy. And if you’re feeling especially salty, you can always write a satire fanfiction about Stan Twitter to express yourself creatively.”

“And it’s honestly their loss if they don’t appreciate Hermitcraft,” Herman brightly declared. “At least we know how to properly deal with the toxic side of our fandom, like the Grumbo Stan Army. Some big fandoms just ignore the toxicity or even encourage it.”

“Honestly, thank you for being so passionate and supportive. It really brightens hermits’ days to see you guys.” Cub grinned at the Hermitcraft fans. “You help us pursue our dreams, plus you’re always so patient when we have to take breaks. We appreciate you guys. Really.”

So the Hermitcraft fans decided to do what the hermits had taught them to— stay positive and loving. They encouraged and hugged each other, and rambled about how wonderful their community was. A veteran of the fandom who had left for a while returned, with everybody instantly sobbing how much they missed them. Fan content of the hermits were enthusiastically exchanged, with people writing long essays on how much they loved the hermits and how Hermitcraft would outlast all current trends. The hermits gazed fondly upon their supporters, their hearts warm and full.

Joe turned to the other three hermits. “You guys should go to practice. I’ll stay for a while to make sure they’re okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, good luck hermits!” Herman Blur waved. 

“Good luck!” the fans cried out. “Hermitcraft support!”

“We’re not going to get ninth again!” False laughed. She put her arms around Ren and Cub’s shoulders, and together all three of them went to find Pearl and Fruit.

* * *

_Why, are you asking me why?_

_My days and nights are filled with disappointment_

_Fine, oh no, everything's fine_

_I'm not sure why I booked today's appointment_

* * *

The main campus was ugly, with the exception being a few builds that included Noxcrew’s Championship arena and the place the crafters were working on. They found Pearl with the Legates, who were discussing where to expand to. As looked down as the hermits were, at least they had an entire hill to themselves. 3-G were not as lucky, and not to mention they were made out of several crafter groups unlike the hermits who were one huge community. The 3-G people were having an enthusiastic debate on the pros and cons of making taller buildings.

“Do it,” Cub insisted. “Make them taller than the school. For the flex.” The 3-G students laughed, entertained. 

At that point, Pearl could be considered an honorary hermit. She had helped Grian and Xisuma with some of their designs, plus she had been with the hermits in Championships before. 

Several other 3-G crafters were also participating in the 8th Championship. Notably, Martyn and Jimmy, who always participated with each other (like False and Ren). Fwhip was going to be in a team with Joel and two 3-A students, HBomb and Quig. Apparently Fwhip and Joel also had a practice session with their team, so the three hermits and the three 3-G students went to the gym together. 

It was Ren’s first time meeting Joel, so naturally, he started to flirt with him. “Hey Beans, we can make beautiful little babies together,” he joked.

“Oh, I’ve found a nice baby making corner,” Joel played along with a grin. “We can be Beandog.”

“Beandog,” Ren repeated, laughing. “I like the sound of that. Little Beandog babies.”

Pearl and Fwhip shot Joel fake-disgusted looks. “ _This_ is what you get up to when Lizzie’s not here?” “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight, Joel.”

Their idle chatter died down when they saw Fruit and H outside the gym. 

“Ooh, Fruit, you’re training the hermits. Nice,” H commented. 

Fruit shrugged, acting casual. “I mean, I’m not gonna be in this Championship. Might as well try to help someone.”

“How about your students Techno and Dream?”

“Ohh, they can surely manage themselves.” Fruit shoved his hands in his pockets. “No need for my training.”

H snorted. “Will be interesting to see the two rivals be on the same team. I wonder how it’ll work out.”

Fruit glanced up. “Weren’t we rivals before? Y’know, maybe we should team up next time,” he said with a hopeful lilt in his tone.

H clapped Fruit on the back. “We’ll see, we’ll see. Gotta get through this Championship first!”

The two teams parted ways as H, Joel, and Fwhip went inside the gym to find Quig. Fruit turned to the Yellow Yaks. “Let’s gooo, guys! It’s practice time!” 

Fruit trained them on their PvP skills and reflexes. It was definitely more effective than when the hermits tried to learn from sparring with each other. Now, with one of the school’s athletic stars as their teacher, they received more specific feedback.

“C’mon, Ren, hit me with all you got!” Fruit declared.

Ren looked slightly apprehensive. “Umm—“

“I’ll be fine,” Fruit told him with a laugh. So Ren threw Fruit a punch. “Nice, but I know you can do better.”

Ren shook his fist and bit his lip. He punched Fruit again.

“Are you holding back because we’re friends? Because you shouldn’t. Come on, I wanna see what you can do.”

With a battle cry, Ren tried again, and this time, Fruit’s eyes lit up. “That’s more like it!” He cheered. “You’re stronger than you know, Ren. Like you literally chop trees every day.”

“Yep, put those muscles to good use!” Cub teased from the sidelines.

“You don’t need to be scared of hurting yourself,” Fruit explained. “So long you have the correct technique, you can use more of your strength.”

Pearl, as a student from the main campus, was required to undergo training. As a result, she had more experience than the three hermits.

“It’s not fair,” Pearl remarked, “how the only way for hermits to get back to the main campus is through a Championship, and yet you don’t get any official help from the school.”

“Yeah, they just want a bunch of people to look down at, to be honest,” Cub said. “Like people can go ‘at least I’m not the hermits’. Someone has to be at the bottom of the social hierarchy.”

“At _least_ we’re not those players who rage every time something doesn’t go their way,” False quipped, and everyone laughed.

Fruit led the Yaks in trying out the parkour course next. To everyone’s surprise, Pearl did pretty well. When the hermits gaped at her, Pearl smiled a little, and shrugged. “Totally not been practicing parkour for the past two months.”

“Have you finished it?”

“Yeah, I’m missing two levels.”

“Dang!” Ren looked impressed. “So this is the power of practice!”

“Yeahh, the only way to get better at parkour is through practicing,” Fruit said. “Factors like agility and nimbleness do contribute, but just like everything else, practice matters the most.”

“You must spend a lot of time practicing then,” Cub said, “since you’re like, a god.”

Fruit laughed. “I try, I try.”

“Fruit, don’t be so humble, dude!” Ren exclaimed. “You’re crazy talented.”

Fruit didn’t know how to respond to compliments, so he just smiled and continued to teach the Yaks. That was his way of thanking the Yaks.

They rested for a bit after parkour, then went to the school’s shooting range. Ren was the most excited out of the five, mainly because he wanted everyone to see how good False and Cub were at shooting.

“Stop it, Ren,” Cub hit Ren’s shoulder, a little embarrassed. “I’m no good at shooting moving targets.”

Indeed, when it came to shooting the moving dummies, False was clearly the best shot out of the four. With two hands grasping the air gun and blue eyes narrowed at the target, False looked intimidating, especially to Cub and Ren who had long known her as “the queen of hearts”. False’s fingers swiftly pressed the trigger, and the BB bullet slammed into the dummy’s chest. Everybody cheered, with Ren screaming, “LET’S GO FALSIE!”

“You have pretty good reflexes, False,” Fruit noted. “I was going to comment on that when we dueled, but I think the thing is, you’re a careful person. You tend to hesitate, which can be why you can be eliminated by opponents weaker than you. But when you’re not in danger, like here,” he gestured to the dummies, “I can really see your reflexes shine. Go for it, False. You can do it.”

Cub was struggling, mainly because he was used to the static targets in Targét. He huffed, frustrated. The disparity between his low accuracy rate and the highscores he got on his minigames was upsetting him. He shot again, but none of them hit. Upon seeing this, Fruit hurried over.

“Don’t forget to breathe, Cub,” Fruit reminded him. “Take your time.”

“I have been, but I keep on missing.” Cub sighed, and glanced at his gun.

“Your shoulders are tense,” Fruit noted. “Also, you should switch up your position a little so your arms can be more comfortable.” He nudged Cub into position while continuing to give him advice.

A little further away, Ren was determinedly practicing his shooting skills. He kept on missing, but he wasn’t going to let that discourage him. Since Fruit was busy teaching Cub, Ren decided to ask False for help, but then he heard False and Pearl talking. 

“... honestly I’m not that good of a PvPer,” Ren heard False admit, her voice slightly covered by the sound of bullets hitting the dummies. “It’s just that I’m better than other hermits… and they all look up to me…”

“Maybe it’s like what Fruit said!” Pearl replied. “Trust yourself a little more!”

False sighed. “I’m trying… but sometimes I feel like I’m larger than life and overrated…”

Upon hearing that, Ren faltered. He and the other hermits had always asked False for help when it came to PvP, and False had always happily obliged, but… had they ever thought of the pressure they unintentionally imposed on her? False had her reputation, but did it stress her out to uphold it?

… Now Ren wondered if the hermits’ praises for False also contributed to that. Ren thought they were being encouraging, but were they pushing False’s limits? Placing the burden on False’s shoulders alone? It was the last thing Ren wanted. It wasn’t fair for others to depend on her so much. 

And actually, Ren thought Fruit was right about False. If only she was more confident… but could the hermits could give her that confidence? Had they been admiring her for so long the compliments felt stale? And what if their encouragements accidentally sounded like expectations? 

His brain was stuffed with unpleasant thoughts and Ren wanted a break, so he said bye to his friends and walked away. He exhaled, and tried to restabilize himself. 

It was all okay. They were okay. He was okay. 

(He thought about how False said that to Pearl, not him or Cub. She shared that with the non-hermit.)

“Okay, Ren, stop being freakin stupid and overreacting to freakin everything,” Ren furiously muttered to himself. He paced up and down the corridor. “Geez! Just be… a good friend! It’s not hard!”

Sudden voices interrupted Ren’s train of thought, and Ren recognized the voices. One was H, the other Fwhip. It seemed like the Aqua Axolotls were coming over. 

“... and actually, the hermits aren’t half bad.”

“YEAH! Fwhip, you would know, you teamed with them before.”

Ren didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but hey, it wasn’t his fault HBomb was loud!

“I’m a little scared of False when I face her in PvP, actually,” came H’s boisterous voice. “She’s the X factor for the Yellow Yaks this time. If she does well, the Yaks will definitely get a boost.”

“False is genuinely good with a gun.”

“I know right! I’ve been rewatching some of the Championship footage and she definitely can pop off.”

You know that feel when people you admire insult you behind your back? Well, Ren just experienced the complete opposite of that. Ren knew he _really_ shouldn’t be listening, but it felt nice that H and Fwhip were saying that without the intention of False ever knowing. Like they weren’t saying it to be nice to False. They honestly thought False was good. And that was both reassuring and heartwarming. 

The Aqua Axolotls went around a corner and saw Ren. Ren stood there, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Oh, hey Ren!” Fwhip was quick to greet them. He shared sheepish looks with H. “So… uhh… you heard us?”

Ren could only nod. “Umm, sorry, didn’t mean to. But it’s great to hear that you guys think that way about False! She’s the PvP legend of Hermitcraft.”

Fwhip smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

H raised an eyebrow. “So I _haven’t_ heard. Do tell me more.”

“Everyone’s scared of her in 3-H,” Ren laughed. “Like she has these lightning quick reflexes. One time Grian tried to tag her but she spun around so quickly she nearly knocked him to the ground. She saved multiple hermits (mostly me, because I’m a derp) from tripping and falling in ponds. And she’s terrifying with guns. You should’ve seen her go crazy at UHCs, man.”

“I didn’t know she’s the PvP queen in your class,” H said. “I just thought she’s good from watching the old footage…”

That pleased Ren. “It’s great to know that main campus students also feel that way about Falsie. Like I think she’s been worrying she’s only good by hermit standards.”

H and Ren enthusiastically exchanged more compliments about False, both excited someone agreed with them. H noticed the rest of his team looked slightly awkward, and cleared his throat.

“Well, that was a nice chat,” Ren hastily said, not meaning to bother H’s team. “I’ll definitely tell False what you said.”

To Ren’s surprise, the conversation didn’t end there. H turned to the rest of the Axolotls and asked, “Would you mind if I give the hermits some help?”

“Oh, sure!” Fwhip was quick to agree, almost too quick. “I mean.... I want to stop the prejudice against hermits and the crafters’ community! And we’re friends!”

“3-GH solidarity!” Joel exclaimed. “Gotta support the crafters.”

The three turned to Quig, whom Ren was slightly apprehensive about. Quig had done nothing wrong, but Ren knew he was a 3-A student and one of the top 5 students. The five S-tiers, or DTPQF, consisted of Dream, Techno, Pete, Quig, and Fruit. Two of them, Pete and Fruit, were nice to the hermits. Dream seemed indifferent, and Techno seemed indifferent to all hermits except everybody’s favourite bread boi Grian. Quig was the only one left. Did he think the hermits were lame? Or was he like the rest of the Aqua Axolotls team? 

Quig shrugged, calm and chill. “Sure, it’s about time the hermits do better. Just don’t steal our first place,” he joked. “I hope you can get into Dodgebolt, but let us win.”

Ren scratched his head. “Getting to Dodgebolt is our dream, but for now, we’re aiming for seventh,” he confessed. “And I dunno, it feels wrong for you to help us since you’re also participating…”

“It’s like Quig said, just don’t steal our first place.” H grinned at Ren. “And for some of us, the Championships aren’t all about winning. We just want to have fun. Now, where are you guys practicing?”

* * *

When Ren returned, False definitely wasn’t expecting him to bring more people with him. She might’ve expected Fwhip, but she wasn’t expecting the entire Aqua Axolotls team. Even Fruit looked surprised.

“Hope you don’t mind if we practice next to you!” Quig called out. “Sure,” Pearl responded, bemused. 

Out of the four Axolotls, H was the most eager one. Quig, Joel, and Fwhip mostly stayed in their corner, occasionally making small chitchat with the Yaks, but H was determined to join Fruit and become the Yaks’ second “sensei”. H continuously complemented the hermits, False in particular, and False raised her eyebrows. She was flattered, but also a little overwhelmed. Something seemed fishy. So when H was talking with Fruit, False pulled Ren aside. “Okay, what did you say to H?” she demanded.

“He kinda forced his way in!” Ren replied, a little spooked by False. “I overheard him talking about how good you can be, and we chatted for a bit, and boom! He’s here.”

False crossed her arms and glared at Ren. “Okay, so he really thinks I’m good?”

Ren gave her a look. “Duh?” Then he amended his tone. “No pressure though,” he hurriedly added.

“... That’s nice to hear.” False wanted to believe in H and Fruit and the Yaks, but she wasn’t sure if she could live up to that. Of course False wanted to improve, and she was taking steps to improve, but maybe… being optimistic would disappoint her. After all, her team had placed ninth two times in a row.

H wasn’t with the Yaks and Fruit for long, and H didn’t do much except for boosting their spirits, but the Yaks appreciated it. As False dutifully aimed again and again at the test dummy in front of her, she found it fascinating to hear Ren and H converse. They didn’t know each other before the Championships, but to any outsider, they felt like old friends. H and Ren were both extremely positive and wholesome, and were convinced all their team members would do better than them (liars). False would almost call them effortlessly wholesome, but she knew while they sounded effortless, it was actually pretty difficult. Anyways, it was awesome that Ren finally found someone who could encourage him in the way he encouraged others. Ren brought him down so aggressively that even False and Cub were at a loss sometimes, but H could bring Ren up even more aggressively. 

Too bad they didn’t get to spend much time together. H had his own team to train. And the hermits were all busy, so they only managed to have one practice session with Fruit.

And so the 8th Championship inched closer and closer.

* * *

Cub ambled down to the main campus. Cub didn’t have anything to do, he just wanted to be up to date with the news in the community. Being on a (confessedly very cool and pretty) hill distanced you from everyone and everything.

There was a huge notice board, and Cub peered at it, privately thinking the Hermiton Herald did a much better job at reporting news (Cub knew he was biased, but oh well). But something caught his eye— it was a rough sketch of him and the other Yellow Yaks in… cute yellow jackets? Next to that sketch were also numerous drawings of other team uniforms.

“Ahh, the tailors are getting into the Championship,” Cub muttered to himself. They were probably inspired by the matching jackets the Orange Piglets wore in the 7th Championship, and were eager to show their support by making outfits in hopes their favourite teams would wear them. It was nice to know that the Yellow Yaks had fans even though three of them were in the “lame” 3-H. 

Cub peered at the sketch that had originally caught his eye. There were three designs; one with a yak logo, one with the initials of the team members, and one that spelled out “YAKS”. There was a note attached to it that said: “ _Saw that the Championship teams were out, so I decided to make outfit concepts for the Yellow Yaks! I couldn’t decide on one design though… so here’s all 3 xD. These were honestly really fun to design. Anyways, if anyone’s interested in using any of these, feel free to hit me up and find me in the studio! I’ll make these outfits real quick for you. FoxyNinjaBear (or just Foxy).”_

“That’s cute,” Cub commented with a grin. He snapped a photo of it and sent it to the other Yaks, waiting for their opinion. He always knew the tailors were active in the school (Grian even took a fashion design course in his second year), but he didn’t expect them to be involved in the Championship. 

**Cub:** Hey, wanna wear something nice for the Championship?

 **Cub:** [attachment]

 **Ren:** Ooh! Sweet! :D

 **Ren:** I like the YAKS design <3

 **Pearl:** Ohh that’s on the notice board? Lol i dont really go to that part of the campus

 **Pearl:** should check that more often :P

 **Ren:** so we’re commissioning them?

 **Cub:** yeah if everyone is cool with it

 **Cub:**...False?

 **Pearl:** cub are you still there? Im coming over

 **Cub:** yep

There were a few minutes of silence, then Cub’s phone vibrated again.

 **False:** oooh yeah that’s cute! I agree with the YAKS one

 **Pearl:** yas yaks!! 

**False:** sorry for replying late, i was in a boat with zed

 **False:** dont ask

 **Ren:** (they thought it was a good idea to flood a piece of land for no reason)

 **False:** dont. ask.

 **Ren:** falsie and i will come down so we can visit the studio together?

 **Cub:** yeah, sounds great!

The Yaks assembled at the notice board, and walked to the school’s studio. The studio was one of the nicer looking places in the main campus, probably because of the abundance of creativity. Mannequins were dressed in half-finished outfits, and sketches and mood boards were plastered on the concrete walls. Students who designed clothes, or “tailors” as they were referred to, hurried between work benches, clutching rolls of colourful fabrics, their fingers covered with chalk. The room was filled with chatter and the hum of sewing machines. It was a busy, productive and creative space, and it had an atmosphere the Yaks were familiar with. Except their expertise laid in architecture (and redstone machinery, for Cub’s case), and they felt a little lost and overwhelmed (in a good way, like the way you would feel when you entered Scar’s magical village and had no idea where to focus on first.)

The Yaks shuffled around the studio, and felt pairs of eyes on them. No doubt several tailors had offered to design outfits for them, and were wondering which tailor the Yaks had chosen. It was flattering that they had multiple fans.

Cub quickly found Foxy, whose designs the Yaks liked the most. “Hi Foxy, we’d love to use version three of the design, the one with the “YAKS”, for the 8th Championship. It’ll be great if you can make the jackets!”

Foxy looked up, brown hair falling over her shoulders. “Yes, of course! So happy to hear that you guys wanna use them!”

Foxy quickly measured the Yaks and promised to send them the jackets a few days before the 8th Championship. 

“We seem so professional and official now with the uniforms,” Pearl mused out loud.

Ren chuckled. “It’s like we’re a sports team! Yellow Yaks gonna kick your butt!”

“Oh yeah,” False joined in, smirking. 

“Oh yeahhh,” Cub cheered. “We’re the cream of the crop!”

Now with their team outfits in good hands, the Yellow Yaks’ morale was boosted. And they felt like fighting even if the entire world was against them.

* * *

_'Cause I've been so good, I've been working my ass off_

_I've been so good, still, I'm lonely and stressed out_

_I've been so good, I've been so good this year_

_And I've been so good, but it's still getting harder_

_I've been so good, where the hell is the karma?_

* * *

The days slipped past and soon it was the night before the 8th Championship. The Yellow Yaks met up for dinner and to briefly discuss their strategy and goals. 

The hermits didn’t find the time to practice, but Pearl went to the parkour course practically every day, so Pearl hoped Parkour Warrior would be chosen. (Parkour was the hermits’ least favourite game and none of them wanted to play parkour.)

False was a little worried, but hey, they did practice, even if just for a bit. Plus all four of them had participated in Championships before and had learned from their previous experiences. With Fruit and H’s advice ringing in their heads, they would surely perform better. 

“Seventh is what we’re aiming for. Just better than eighth, alright dudes?” Ren laughed, but it only intensified his faintly desperate tone. 

“Better than eighth,” Pearl and Cub repeated, both nodding. 

“We’ll prove everyone wrong,” Pearl vowed, determined. “Everyone in the community has been putting us as ninth or tenth.”

False winced internally. She wasn’t surprised, but it still stung. After all, they were the hermit team. And of course everyone thought the hermits _sucked._

“ _Really?_ ” Ren gaped, blue eyes wide.

Pearl managed to laugh, slightly awkward. “So. Yeah! We’re gonna get better than that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cub echoed.

Ren looked around, a frown on his face. They could hear him pause as he searched for words to express himself without sounding too negative. “I mean, talk about getting a stab in the back by the community!” He tried to keep his tone light, but everyone could hear the hurt in his voice. It was just like Ren to attempt to sound funny and unbothered— too bad his true feelings were still painfully obvious. He slammed his glass on the table. “Damn!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re a bit more competitive than they realized,” Pearl soothed them.

“Yeah, we practiced, didn’t we? And they’re just underestimating and looking down on us like they always do,” False stated firmly. She wasn’t going to let the community and MCC Reddit and their stupid predictions drag her team down. 

The Yellow Yaks had Fruit and H, two famous 3-A students, as their mentors. They had multiple fans who were willing to design team outfits for them. False thought about the Hermitcraft fans being upset that their selfie day was overshadowed. If something as small as that got them worked up, they must have been burying their frustration for so long. And they were angry on behalf of the hermits, because the hermits were so “underappreciated”. People supported them, people wanted them to do good. So many people believed in them, so they should believe in themselves, right?

The words slipped out of False’s mouth. “And if we work hard, I promise all four of us will even get into Dodgebolt one day. Maybe not with the four of us together in a team, but we _will_ get there.”

The three of them laughed. “Yeah, nothing’s impossible,” Cub said. “Even if it _sounds_ impossible.”

“To Dodgebolt we go!” Pearl whooped.

“But for now, we’re aiming for seventh,” Ren declared. “One step at a time, dudes.” Ren looked happier now, having recovered from the news that everyone predicted they would be last.

And so on that humid summer night, the Yellow Yaks made two promises.

The first was to get anything above eighth place.

The second was that all four of them would get into Dodgebolt eventually. 

Things were finally looking up for the hermits and the Yellow Yaks. They were confident they could end their streak of getting ninth. They gazed at each other, hearts full and hopeful, and raised their glasses to the moon, huge beams on their face. 

But what they didn’t know was that tomorrow, the Yellow Yaks would be completely massacred.

* * *

_The universe works in mysterious ways_

_But I'm starting to think it ain't working for me_

_Doctor, should I be good?_

**_Should I be good this year?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go- pre MCC8 stuff woo! I honestly enjoyed MCC8 Yellow Yaks despite their result, I found them funny and chill to watch :D
> 
> Sorry if this was kinda a messy chapter, it didn't turn out quite the way I wanted to but I didn't want to work on this one any longer lol.
> 
> Lyrics from AJR's Karma (yes, I watched the And The Universe Shifts Karma animatic :D). Karma, along with Battle Scars (Paradise Fears) are honestly the two songs so far that fit this fic the best.
> 
> (PS: Beandog is Ren and Joel (Smallishbeans)'s ship name that they came up on their first meeting during an Among Us session. They talked about making imposter babies for the whole time. Don't ask why or how. Don't question the Rendog.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Always appreciate kudos and comments! <3


	12. But Misery's a Little Quicker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> False, Ren, Cub, and Pearl join the 8th Championship, Fruit cheers for the Yellow Yaks, Technoblade hesitates in Battle Box, False doubts herself, Ren smiles a little too much, the Yaks pog through the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, MCC8 was not really that angsty (MCC11 is the most angsty one), it’s just that our heroes, the hermits, got 9th again. MCC8 Yellow Yaks is a very nice and enjoyable POV. I’m just making it sad for plot lol. I’ll be quoting a lot from the Yaks’ POV so you can see how Ren carried the team by continuously boosting their morale :D
> 
> This chapter (and the next few) will mention shit people said about the hermits in real life. Just two instances: when Michael said the hermit team were easy kills in Battle Box, and when Burren called Rendog old in Ace Race. Everything else is false and highly exaggerated. I’m certain Michael and Burren meant it as jokes and did not mean any offense, but it did upset me and some other Hermitcraft fans. Maybe I’m just not used to their humour. Maybe I’m overreacting. 
> 
> This chapter gets negative (and the worst part is, certain parts of it are real), so you might wanna sit down if you dearly love the hermits. 

_In youth you'd lay_

_Awake at night and scheme_

_Of all the things that you would change_

_But it was just a dream…_

* * *

The 8th Championship started with False trying to get everyone in line, despite Ren being the one with the catchphrase “ladies (and gentlemen and everybody), get in line!”. 

“Yas team!” False cheered, hyped.

“You mean, _Yaks_ team,” Pearl quipped.

“Earlier on it was just Cub and me,” Ren said. “We were team AS, which is also an animal, but not the one we would like to be.” 

“Probably not Foxy’s intention when she made our outfits,” Cub remarked.

“Serious talk, team,” Ren continued, “If you take a look at the leaderboard, I took a photo because this is the only time we’re ever going to be third.”

The Yaks all turned to look, and indeed, due to their team colour, the Yaks were sitting in third. All of them laughed at the self-deprecating joke. They quickly took selfies, then returned to talking about their strategy. As they had agreed last night, they were aiming for seventh. 

There was a larger crowd than usual, which was due to the massive clout Dream and Techno had. The Yaks still felt a little bad for the other two members of Pink Parrots, because Michael and Burren genuinely weren’t bad and would not “drag down” the team (not that they believed any player would drag down anyone). Stan Twitt was standing tall and proud on the stage, decked out in full pink gear. False thought she saw Stan look at them, and felt shivers down her spine. That moment quickly passed, and False didn’t think much about it. Stan Twitt was always creepy and weird.

The Yaks didn’t want Skyblockle, since as Ren put it, they “had no idea what the heck was going on” and it was a PvP oriented game. But after seeing what other people were voting for, they went for Parkour Warrior to get it out of the way. 

Parkour was pain as usual, with Pearl and False managing to get up to 5-3, with Cub stuck at 4-1 and Ren at 3-3.

“NOO! I was so close!” came Ren’s distraught voice from their communicators as False and Pearl struggled with 5-1. “Cub, you and I are stuck on the stupid glass panes!”

“Hi False,” a panting Pearl greeted her when False finally got past 5-1. “Damn, this is hard, and I practiced it.”

So False and Pearl were stuck on one level together, Cub and Ren stuck in the same one a few levels behind them. All of them groaned about the unfairness of Parkour and became a little disheartened. 

“Man, I’m disappointed in myself,” Cub mumbled. False winced.

“Cub, I feel your pain, dude.” There was silence as Ren presumably focused on something. “You and me, Cub, we’re letting down the girls today.”

False furrowed her eyebrows. She turned around, but couldn’t see the guys. “Where are you?”

“Don’t ask, don’t ask,” was Ren’s pain-filled reply.

False edged herself past 5-2, and exhaled, her arms trembling. Steady beeps came from her ear radio, telling her there were twenty seconds left.

“Well, I’m so glad we don’t have to do this again!” Ren burst out, and False laughed. It wasn’t even to mask the pain; it was just that they were so bad at parkour it was funny.

“Oh, I got past that one with ten seconds to spare!” Cub’s joyous voice came from the radio.

“Nice one, Cub!” Ren cheered. “You beautiful, beautiful man.”

False dragged herself up to a platform and sat down, ignoring the seconds ticking down. She knew she wouldn’t make it past 5-3, so why waste her energy? Pearl was still desperately trying, her voice getting increasingly more and more frantic. 

The game ended, and Pearl whined. “I was right there at the next checkpoint!” she exclaimed. “ _Noo!_ ”

False hurried over to Pearl and hugged her despite both of them being sweaty. Pearl covered her face with her hands. “That went so bad!” she cried out in a tiny voice.

The girls met up with Ren and Cub, with Ren being thankful they didn’t have to deal with parkour again. “So Pearl, how did all of that practice turn out for you there?” Ren asked.

Pearl lifted her head to glare at Ren. “It was _fine_ ,” she answered in an intense way that everyone knew it wasn’t fine at all.

False jokingly hit Ren. “Wow, rubbing it in.”

“I hate the glass pane one,” Pearl muttered. “It threw me off _so_ much.” She shrugged False’s arm off so she could grab her water bottle.

There was a slight pause. “The thing is, it’s completely different when the pressure’s on,” Ren commented. 

“Yup,” Cub nodded.

“Like, we did okay with Fruity, but now that we’re actually in the Championship…” Ren subconsciously rubbed his arms. “ _Yeah._ ”

“Ahhh, I feel so distraught!” Pearl rambled passionately, not over her performance in Parkour Warrior. “I practiced for so long, like literally every day, and I still got stuck… heck, I even asked the main campus teachers for help...”

Pearl looked legitimately disappointed, and the hermits shared concerned glances. 

“At least we can focus on the events we enjoy now, since we got the worst one out of the way!” Ren said with a grin. Trust Ren to keep being optimistic despite the circumstances.

Pearl managed to smile, and exhaled, tension leaving her shoulders. “Yup, gotta forget about that stupid parkour.”

The second game, Hole in the Wall, was a pretty standard game by the hermits’ standards, except Pearl and Ren popped off in the final round.

“How are we still alive, Ren?” Pearl wheezed as False and Cub shouted wall directions from above.

“I have no idea!” Ren replied as he frantically dashed to a hole.

False gazed at her friends, impressed. “You guys are killing it!”

“Don’t panic, everything’s fine, everything’s _fine_!” Ren chanted to himself as the wall speed increased. He and Pearl ducked and crawled through holes with not a second to spare. “Oh geez! Hold me mama!”

Ren was knocked off, and Pearl gasped. “How-how did I survive?!”

“Yes Pearl!” Cub cried from the sidelines as False helped Ren up. 

“I’m panicking! _I’m panicking!_ ” Pearl screeched. There were only four players still alive. Pearl was among the top four players of that round. So long had the Yaks wanted to do good, but now that they were actually getting higher ranks, they just _freaked out._

Pearl fell off soon, but the Yaks were ecstatic. “We’re ninth, dude!” False cried out happily. (Funny how they were so happy with their “cursed” ninth place.)

Ren embraced a beaming Pearl. “Nicely done, dudes! We pulled it back in the end! I like we’re so excited with ninth, by the way.”

“We’re not tenth!” False declared. “We basically won!”

“We’re in line with the community placings though,” Pearl reminded them, and their hearts sank a little.

Cub shrugged. “Well, we gotta celebrate the little achievements we have.”

So with their spirits lifted, the Yellow Yaks walked to the Decision Dome to vote for the third game. They wanted Ace Race, but it seemed like the odds weren’t in their favour. The Yaks watched with bated breath as the screen flickered. The rest of the teams all had their eyes on the screen, nervously murmuring among themselves.

Then bold letters appeared, spelling out “ ** _Battle Box_** ”. The PvP game that the Yaks were simply terrible at. Oh, well.

False’s stomach twisted. Cub was sitting on the floor, still exhausted by Hole in the Wall and Parkour Warrior. Pearl just sighed and crossed her arms. They didn’t say it, but they all thought they had lost the battle before it began. Ren saw the worried looks on his friends’ faces, and decided to speak up.

“Falsie and I did pretty good in our first time, which was a few Championships ago, but I think we got this dudes!” Ren said brightly.

… It was always Ren who managed to make a bad situation look good without fail. He was the most vocal and supportive member on the team, and False honestly didn’t know what they would do without him.

Stan Twitt was cackling and giggling, and False shot a look at Pink Parrots. As expected, they were pumping their fists in the air, happy that a PvP game was chosen. False turned away, trying to shake off the odd unpleasant feeling in her gut. 

False could only hope Ren was right.

(Spoiler alert: he wasn’t— but it was the thought that counted.)

* * *

_Farewell, I've gone to take my throne above_

_But don't weep for me_

_'Cause this will be the labor of my love_

* * *

Technoblade and his team were beyond excited for Battle Box. Their many fans squealed in joy, desperate to see the PvP masters, the legendary rivals Dream and Techno excel. The four roared, lusting for blood. 

A strange atmosphere descended upon all of them, but it wasn’t a… bad atmosphere. They were fucking confident like they had never been before. Their hands were itching for combat. They wanted to taste blood. They wanted to kill everybody in their way. And they didn’t just want it, they _would_ do it. 

“BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!” Stan Twitt screamed for all its worth. Stan seemed to be closely following Pink Parrots (because they were the Winner’s POV, _duh._ ) With Stan Twitt’s support, Technoblade felt absurd adrenaline and confidence gush into his veins, and he was sure his teammates felt the same. Nothing could go wrong. They were going to win and everyone knew it. Techno had never felt like that before. It was almost a little worrying, but screw it, this was their anime moment. When the rivals teamed up to defeat their bigger rival. Plot armour would save them all. 

“Techno! Dream!”

A familiar voice from above. Fruitberries, their sensei, stared down at them, grinning and waving. Of course Fruit was spectating. “Good luck!” he called out.

Dream chuckled. “Thanks Fruit, but we won’t need it.” Michael and Burren hooted, while Techno merely smiled at Fruit. 

“Ohh, we’re going up against Team Hermitcraft,” Burren casually stated as he and his team geared up for their first round of Battle Box.

“Oh, that’s an easy dub,” Micheal responded cheerfully, polishing his blade. 

Everybody burst into boisterous, hysterical laughter. Everyone knew the hermits were downright shitty in PvP, so it should be a piece of cake to get them. It was so fucking easy, it was pathetic and almost sad. _Almost._

Techno stared at them across the field. He recognized a girl with beige hair, cheerfully talking with her teammates. He had seen her practicing for parkour literally every day. He recognized two other hermits (whom he still didn’t know the name of despite seeing them in every Championship), the brunet guy and the Female Hermit. There was also another guy who was probably a hermit. Someone called Cubfan. Techno snorted. He only knew about the hermits through Grian, and Grian was the only builder he actually knew. 

It was nice that people stopped beating up the hermits. Techno still didn’t know shit about them though. It was disappointing that the hermits were still getting bottom ten. Techno actually thought they might’ve improved, but nope. They were still bad at the Championship. Sad. 

Techno looked up and saw Stan Twitt smirking. His eyes met with Stan’s, and Techno blinked. There was something nagging at the back of his brain. Above them, Fruit looked slightly… worried for some reason. 

“Huh, the hermits are somehow still trying to win the Championship.”

“Let’s be real, I’ll be surprised if they get 8th.”

“Not to sound mean, but they’re not good. Actually, I would just say they’re bad.” A cackle. “They get points for trying though.” 

“I wonder how long they can survive.”

“Geez, can they even stand up after their fight with us?”

More laughter. Techno suddenly felt ill. Why were his friends suddenly so… aggressive? Like they were drunk on hubris even though the game hadn’t even started? This wasn’t like them at all. And suddenly, the Blood God was _scared._ Techno snuck a look at Dream, who was smirking as he impatiently tapped his foot on the ground. Techno, for seemingly no reason, was fucking scared. 

But that thought vanished as quickly as it came. Why should he be worried? The hermits were legitimately easy kills, nothing but cannon fodder.

In the corner of his eye, Techno saw Fruit cheer for the hermits, and that uneasiness intensified. But that was quickly overshadowed by Stan Twitt’s feral screeching. 

“PINK PARROTS UWU! RIVALSTWT UWU! YASS TEAM!”

Techno took a deep breath and readied his sword. “The hermits are _my_ kills. Don’t touch them.”

(Techno didn't know why he felt compelled to say that. It just felt right.)

Dream guffawed. “Getting greedy, aren’t you Techno? Wanna steal my first place?” he playfully taunted.

Techno frowned, and once again stared at the hermits. They were just standing there, chatting, minding their own business, blissfully oblivious to trash talking happening on the other side. 

“Blood for the Blood God,” Techno muttered ominously. “Don’t get in my way.” His teammates snickered, thinking he was joking. Techno would like to think he was, but his thoughts and feelings were getting jumbled up. 

_He was just joking, right? He had to be._

“You’ll have to compete with us though. C’mon, everyone wants free kills.”

“I bet the hermits will just fall even if we push them slightly.”

Techno wanted to tell them they shouldn’t be too harsh on the hermits. They should conserve their energy since the hermits were weak. It was Techno’s way of doing things. But somehow, the words never left his mouth.

_“Three…”_

Techno sighed. He didn’t know why he was so confused and torn. It was simple. Find the hermits, kill them, and win. 

“ _Two…”_

Kill the hermits. It was just that simple.

_“One!”_

The gates opened, and with battle cries, the Pink Parrots charged. Before Techno attacked, he glanced one final time at the spectator stands.

… Stan Twitt’s smile was starting to look a little sinister.

* * *

Techno quickly picked up a “damage potion” (which was just a harmless water balloon) and saw one of the Yaks (the brunet guy) charge towards him. Techno could sense his other teammates were going for kills. He wondered how hard his teammates would hit the hermits. Hopefully not _too_ hard. It was unfair to be so aggressive towards people who were way weaker than them.

(Techno had just suddenly realized the beige haired girl was not a hermit. He felt a little bad for grouping them together, even though 3-G was just slightly higher than 3-H in the hierarchy.)

Brunet guy tried to hit him, and Techno weighed the water balloon in his hands. It was too easy to defeat this guy. Techno heard swords clash and bullets meeting their targets. And then-

A female scream.

The brunet guy’s eyes widened. “Falsie!” He instantly looked away from Techno and ran towards his friend. Techno raised his sword. With his target distracted, it really was too easy. 

But at that moment, Techno hesitated.

Nobody else would know, because their reflexes weren’t fast enough. It was so quick that no one would catch it.

But Techno knew.

The real question was: _why?_

Maybe the guy sounded genuinely worried for the False girl. Maybe Techno naively wanted to see the hermits do slightly better. Maybe he wanted to see them save each other. 

But Techno wasn’t going to let the hermits run free. Oh no, oh no, oh _no._ That wasn’t the way of the Blood God.

Techno just generously gave them a chance. A little head start since Techno would catch them in the end.

Techno watched as the brunet guy ran. Suddenly, Burren popped up, his sword aiming for the brunet guy’s unprotected neck. And Techno acted faster than one could blink.

Techno seized the brunet guy’s collar with one hand, and used the other to toss the damage pot at his chestplate. The water balloon erupted, and the health bars on the brunet guy’s suit went down. Techno let go, and the panting guy stumbled to his feet. Considering he didn’t instantly collapse on the ground, Techno thought he didn’t hurt the hermit too much. “ _Renthedog was killed using magic by Technoblade!_ ” came the commentator’s voice.

“Aww, you stole my kill!” Burren exclaimed, sounding hurt.

“It was my kill in the first place,” Techno replied darkly, but Burren laughed it off, thinking it was some edgy roleplay.

Bullets peppered Techno’s back. The beige haired girl was shooting them. “She’s my kill,” Burren announced. Techno spun to see the other guy, the Cubfan person, with a sword. Cub dealt Techno some damage, but alas, Cub just wasn’t fast enough. Techno was having a happy time hitting Cub’s chestplate, lowering his virtual health bit by bit, when suddenly Burren slammed him into the ground. Cub winced, and Techno watched as his virtual health drained to zero. _“Cubfan135 was slain by King Burren!”_ the commentator’s voice boomed. _“Pink Parrots win! Well played!”_

“What did I say about stealing my kills?” Techno complained. He didn’t know why he was so annoyed.

“Sorry boss, but you can’t have everything,” Burren drawled. “I got two of them! Nice!”

Behind Burren was the beige haired girl, also lying on the ground, rubbing her arm. Techno scanned the area. The brunet guy was helping the blonde girl walk, while their two other teammates sat there, utterly exhausted. Techno stepped closer to the beige haired girl, but she flinched. Oh right, they were scared of him. 

Cub pushed himself up, then hurried to the beige haired girl. “C’mon Pearl, let’s go,” he mumbled. The Pearl person let Cub help her up, and they stumbled away.

… If the hermits didn’t want Technoblade near them, they might as well leave. To not scare them further. Or whatever. Techno didn’t care. 

“Let’s go get some drinks,” Techno announced. Dream looked up. “Already? One round and you’re tired?”

Thankfully, the oblivious Michael backed him up. “Yeah, feeling kinda thirsty. We still have loads of time before the next round.”

“To the vending machines we go!” Techno declared. He quickly walked away from the hermits, gesturing for his teammates to follow. 

Techno instinctively looked at the spectator stands again. Stan looked utterly proud and delighted, and waved when their eyes met with Techno’s. Techno smiled in return, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. When the Parrots exited the arena, they saw Fruit.

Fruit greeted the Parrots, and brushed past Techno. “Thanks, Techno. I know what you did,” he whispered, then walked away like nothing had happened.

Techno froze. If there was one person quick enough to catch _that_ , it was Fruit.

Techno spun, but Fruit was already nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_I've learned to slam on the brake_

_Before I even turn the key_

_Before I make the mistake_

_Before I lead with the worst of me_

* * *

False had wanted to stay behind with a gun during Battle Box. She simply felt more comfortable staying away from people. Ren and Cub would charge. They swiftly discussed tactics, but they didn’t have much time before the gate was raised.

False stayed in her corner, raising her gun. Fruit and HBomb both said she was good, and they knew a lot about PvP, so False should trust them and herself, right? They had confidence in her. She would be optimistic like Ren.

Fruit’s voice echoed in her mind. _“Go for it, False. You can do it.”_ False bit her lip, and aimed at Dream. He hit her before she could hit him, and she stumbled backwards, right arm aching. 

_Don’t be scared, False!_ She scolded herself. She was the best PvPer in her team, and she felt a little guilty for not being the “tank”. She just preferred being sneaky and not being on the front lines. To avoid Dream’s bullets, she retreated, which was probably not the best decision because she was now trapped.

Dream charged with surprising speed, and fear crept into False’s heart. He gleefully swung his sword at her, and False wanted to parry it. She was capable, wasn’t she? Dream may be a Green God, and one of the school’s best students, but False could at least defend herself for a bit, right?

False gritted her teeth. She was Hermitcraft’s PvP Queen and the title didn’t come easy. She would show it to everyone—

But when Dream cornered her, she faltered.

His sword crashed into her left shoulder, and she winced. She slammed against a wall and Dream continued to approach, his eyes filled with an unnatural amount of bloodlust. He lifted his sword again.

And suddenly False felt like she was back to where she was a few months ago, when Dream eliminated her in Survival Games and she had a horrible headache, and then the bullies attacked her and her friends and she _fainted_ and Cub was forced to use a taser and so False could only stand there, her body frozen—

She couldn’t help it. She screamed.

Dream attacked, and False ducked, but his sword stabbed into the wall behind her. A few strands of blonde hair fluttered to the ground, and False’s heart pounded, blood rushing in her ears.

Maybe Dream would be merciful. Maybe he would just hit her chest plate and leave her alone when he got the points. But apparently that was not the case.

Dream knocked False to the ground, her left arm colliding painfully with the wood. She tried to stand up, but Dream relentlessly hit her legs, and she fell down again, scraping her knees. She scrambled for her airgun. _Dammit, just kill me already!_

False had no idea what happened next, only a mess of pain and dodging and a mosaic of grey and brown. The commentator said something… she thought she heard her name… everything was in a blur. Her forehead hit something and she crumpled to the ground, chest heaving. Her airgun slipped out of her grasp. Her left arm throbbed, and she knew it was terribly bruised.

She glanced up at Dream, who towered over her. Thankfully Dream had stopped attacking, the bloodlust slowly seeping away from his eyes. He stretched out an arm—

False instinctively backed away, her head hitting the wall so hard it rang. Wasn’t Dream done? Why was he going to hurt her again? 

_So much for being good at PvP,_ False bitterly reminded herself. _Now you’re just running away like a coward._

“FALSIE!”

Ren dashed towards her, concern evident in his face. “Oh goodness. Can you stand?” He saw Dream, and snarled. “Get away from her,” he ordered in an uncharacteristically hostile voice.

Dream blinked, his aggressiveness gone. “Sure,” he casually said, and sauntered away.

False let Ren help her up, and they retreated to their side of the arena. Cub and Pearl followed, scratches and bruises littering their skin.

“That was brutal,” Pearl muttered. “They’re so good at PvP.”

“Yeah, I got knocked to the ground,” Cub sighed. “Ren, how about you?”

Ren worriedly glanced at his teammates. “I-actually I’m fine,” he admitted. “Techno got me with a damage pot, which is the least painful way to die.”

“Good for you,” False groaned, her entire body still hurting. ‘Dream got me again. He came straight for me, and I was like, _‘okay’_.”

 _Yeah, you literally gave up. Shame on you,_ a furious voice hissed inside her head.

“Erm, no offence, but you look pretty battered up.” Ren pointed out the obvious. “We should take you to First Aid.” He stepped closer and brushed past False’s bad arm, and she winced. Ren did not catch that, but Cub sure did, and he frowned.

“I’m alright. I’ll be alright,” False mumbled. The last thing she wanted was to make everyone worry for her. Dang it, she was supposed to protect her friends, not the other way round!

“You can’t fool us, False,” Cub said sternly. Before she could stop him, he rolled up her sleeve, revealing the mess of purple and yellow on her left arm, with trickles of blood seeping out. She flinched. “First Aid. _Now._ ”

“Guys!”

Another familiar voice entered the conversation. Fruit leapt into the arena, and stopped when he saw False’s bruises. “Oh yikes. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Pearl asked.

Fruit waved a First Aid member over. “I… Dream’s my friend. I don’t know why he was even more aggressive than usual. I know I sound like an apologist, but he’s usually not like this.”

False grunted. “Yeah, he probably hates us or something.”

Fruit frowned. “... I don’t think he does. But anyways, I know Techno tried to play nice.”

“He did?” Cub, Pearl, and False blurted out in unison, disbelieving. Fruit chewed on his lip.

“He hesitated when he was fighting Ren,” Fruit explained. “Ren, you were distracted when False screamed. Techno could’ve gotten you, but I saw him stop. In fact, he didn’t go for you until Burren attacked you, and Techno swooped in and stole the kill.”

“With the damage pot aka. water balloon that doesn’t actually hurt,” Ren continued, eyes widening in realization. “Techno… gave me a chance to save Falsie?”

“Lucky that you got the pot.” Cub rubbed his arms. “Techno was hitting me with his sword.”

“Yeah, but he hit you in the same place— your chestplate. He wasn’t trying to inflict actual damage.”

“He still knocked me to the ground.”

“Burren did,” Fruit corrected. “Burren got you at the last second.”

Pearl wrinkled her nose. “So, what you’re getting at is that Techno… pities us? And mercy-killed Ren and tried to do the same to Cub? To avoid unnecessary pain?”

“Well, _I_ think he’s being nice, but I’m biased, soo…”

Ren frowned. “Pink Parrots has a weird atmosphere today. It’s like they’re thirsty… for blood,” he hastily added the last two words upon realizing how weird it sounded. 

“You thought so too? I thought I was going crazy…” Fruit hummed, and looked around. “Stan Twitt is creeping me out, by the way. Best to stay clear.”

Fruit stayed with them as the Yellow Yaks nursed their wounds. False, Cub and Pearl looked unhappy, but Ren tried to cheer them up with cheesy jokes. 

“There’s still eight more rounds of Battle Box,” Fruit reminded them. “I got to go now, but I’ll be cheering for you. Good luck!”

… False glanced down at her bandaged arm, ice on it. It helped to soothe the pain, but only a little. Ren, being the least injured team member (both physically and psychologically), supplied them with water and snacks. 

“We’re just getting into our groove,” False said out loud. “That was the worst possible team to go up against.” Her friends nodded. 

… That was just a warm up, right? They would surely win some rounds even with their injuries. False was good at PvP, wasn’t she? 

At least that was what everyone said.

And suddenly False didn’t feel optimistic at all.

* * *

_Give them no reason to stare_

_No slipping up if you slip away_

_So I got nothing to share_

_No, I got nothing to say_

* * *

The Yaks tried different tactics— rushing to the middle, staying as a group, splitting, switching up weapons. Victory was so close, yet so far away. With each round, they tried to learn from their mistakes and improved their strategy, but it seemed like everyone was always one step ahead. They were already demoralized and injured from their first battle with Pink Parrots, so with every loss, their hearts sank a little. 

“I’m gonna take the extra bullets this round, if you don’t mind,” False said as the Yaks peered at the equipment in front of them. “I ran out last time.”

“Sure, sure.” Pearl passed False the bullets.

False was still more comfortable with guns compared to swords. It allowed her to inflict damage without putting herself in danger (even though she ended up being quickly eliminated anyway). False thought about how Fruit suggested her to be bolder and more assertive, but still she automatically retreated into her comfort zone. She couldn’t help it; she had long preferred shooting her opponents. And when the rest of her team was struggling, False barely had the mental energy and courage to try something new. Maybe she _could,_ if she allowed herself to, she just didn’t want to risk it.

“This isn’t going well for us,” Pearl stated when the Yaks lost their fifth round in a row. Cub dragged his battered body to their side of the arena, massaging his sweaty forehead. False silently passed Cub his water bottle.

“Why are we so bad at this?” Ren asked incredulously. “What’s happening?”

False knew he didn’t mean it, but it felt like those words were directed at her. She was supposed to be the PvP carry. She was supposed to step up and lead the team. But she was just hiding behind her friends with her trusty gun by her side. 

“All the other teams are honestly really good,” Pearl admitted. “And we’re not PvPers.”

False exhaled. “No. We’re not,” she confirmed. 

“Yeah, that much is definitely clear,” Ren laughed. 

False stared at her gun, then at the sword hanging on her belt. She _could_ use the sword, but it would take three hits from her opponents to kill her. There wasn’t a lot of chance she could win a fight with a sword, so she would stick to using guns and bullets. 

And so they went again, and False stuck to crouching behind trees and pillars. She tried to snipe people, only her aim was bad and she was slow, so her team lost. Again.

Coincidentally, Ren decided to say, “We really gotta nail our shots.” Everybody murmured in agreement, and False quietly fetched her extra bullets, feeling the invisible pressure that was unintentionally imposed on her. 

“At least we got our weak game out of the way, dudes.” Ren’s voice floated towards False’s ears. It felt like he had said that for virtually every game so far. 

“We’ve been saying that every time though.” Pearl said exactly what everyone was thinking. 

False gripped her gun, and tried to keep her tone cheerful and lighthearted. “That’s just the case!” she exclaimed. “We’re bad at it all!”

… Okay, maybe she sounded saltier than she wanted to. 

They narrowly lost their seventh round, which was against the Lime Llamas— Pete, Katherine, Martyn and Jimmy. Ren had panickly exclaimed he didn’t want to kill Katherine (he did anyway), Pearl got Pete somehow, False got Jimmy, but Martyn got Cub and Pearl. Which was a shame, because the Yaks were so close. At least they knew all four people on the other team, and their blows were noticeably softer.

“It’s like this every time,” Ren sighed. “We get better, but it’s too late.”

False’s left arm started to throb again, and she clutched it. Jimmy frowned, worried. “Hey False, I didn’t hurt you too badly, did it?”

“Nah, you’re good, Dream gave this bruise to me.”

“I see. He’s scary.”

“Wait, did I hurt you too?”

Jimmy chuckled. “Only my dignity,” he joked. 

The Yaks had a brief friendly conversation with the Llamas, and soon the next round of Battle Box began. This time, the Yaks managed to beat the Orange Ocelots. It took them eight rounds to finally win, but hey, at least they won! Even if it was one time. 

“We beat last place though,” Cub reminded his teammates. “Heck, we’re _supposed_ to beat this team.”

“Yeah, that was an empty victory, guys.” Ren perfectly put it into words as always. False bit her lip. Part of her wanted to protest, but she knew Ren was right. 

They tried to replicate their strategy for the final round, but unfortunately, they were against Aqua Axolotls, which was H’s team. Aqua was strong and confident, and the Yaks were easily wiped out once again.

… The Yaks stared at the leaderboard above them, which showed Yaks had earned 443 coins. They had a massive lead over Orange which earned 23 coins (sad). But the team above Yellow, the Cyan Creepers, earned a whopping 1320 coins, which was three times of what the Yaks had gotten. The Yellow Yaks didn’t even want to see how many coins Pink Parrots had. Their shoulders sagged when they recalled their only win, their “empty victory” of beating the last place team.

“Eight out of nine rounds,” Cub muttered. “That’s how many we lost.”

False wanted to flop on the ground, but she had self-restraint (and self-respect). Her exhausted body was screaming at her. She lifted her hand, but it was trembling. False’s gun clattered to the ground.

 _Useless. You can’t even be good at the things you should be good at,_ she thought to herself, heart clenching. 

“Yo!” Ren waved his hand to get his teammates’ attention. Like everyone else, he looked tired, brown hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, with even specks of dried blood on his face, but he continued to smile. False had no idea how he was able to do it. “We did okay.”

“We were ninth. That’s **_okay_** ,” False retorted while Pearl and Cub chortled to ease the pain. “That’s our aim, right?”

… Ah, that was right. How ironic. Their original aim was seventh, but that goal was becoming painful to think about. Maybe they did belong in ninth. They probably did, and there was nothing they could do to change it. 

Funny to think that less than an hour ago, they were so naive and optimistic that they thought they could actually get seventh. They had a goal for once, but they quickly gave it up because it was hopeless. Now they were back to clinging onto the fact that they “weren’t last” just like they had always done. Back to the drawing board. It was as if all their practicing, training, strategizing, didn’t matter at all. 

… It didn’t matter how much they tried.

False sighed and looked down, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes. But then Ren slapped his thigh, abruptly breaking the silence. “All right! Good stuff!”

Cub, False, and Pearl shot him looks. Cub laughed, but it was a hollow laugh. Ren somehow did not sound sarcastic when he said “good stuff”.

“I mean, look. We’re doing just fine, Yaks,” Ren insisted. He was either very optimistic or in major denial. “Now we just need to start carrying. We’ve got some strong games for us coming up! Rocket Spleef, I’m looking at you.”

“False?” Pearl peeped, knowing False was good at Rocket Spleef.

False felt a dire need to protest. “I mean, they’ve changed it, so who knows anymore? I could be bad at it.” She sounded pissed off and negative, but she didn’t care anymore.

(Because False wasn’t good. It had been proved she wasn’t good, even though multiple people claimed she was. Dang it, people needed to _stop_ putting so much faith in her! She wasn’t good!)

“Alright. So.” Ren was continuing his mad errand of “convincing everyone they were Just Fine”. “We’re comfortably sitting in ninth place. Just, umm, a mere thousand and seven hundred coins from eighth place.” Ren’s voice cracked a little, as even he realized how silly he sounded. 

“Oh my gosh,” Pearl whimpered, choking out laughter as she hid her face behind her hands.

“Just don’t look at it,” was False’s only advice. (But False did look at it, and the jarring difference made her sulk.)

“I mean, it’s _exactly_ where everyone expected us to be,” Pearl said. “So we’re meeting expectations.”

“Exactly!” Ren looked delighted that it wasn’t just him trying to boost everyone’s spirits. 

“Yeah, ninth is _exactly_ where we’re meant to be,” False sarcastically mumbled under her breath. _Like we weren’t aiming for seventh,_ she privately added. 

“We’re not disappointed right now,” Ren stated it like it was a fact.

“Yeah, _yeah_.”

False felt bad for being sarcastic when Ren was trying so hard, but she couldn’t help it. She wrapped her Yaks jacket tighter around herself. 

Without Ren, the Yaks fell into silence again as they walked towards the Decision Dome. Ren was chewing his lip nervously, probably trying to think of more encouragements. “And, umm…”

When Ren faltered, Cub picked it up. “You know, we got our strongest events coming up,” Cub offered a little timidly, repeating Ren’s words from earlier. 

“Exactly, Cub, exactly.” Ren looked relieved. “And y’know, we need to give these guys a bit of a head start.”

False started to furiously fiddle with the decorative trapdoors in the lobby. She continued to stay quiet because she had nothing to contribute. She wasn’t good at hyping people up. 

“Like, we don’t wanna come here and flex on everybody, y’know?” Ren was almost rambling now, and False was surprised he was _still_ continuing. “We’re giving them a head start. Let them feel good for a couple rounds.”

“We’ll let them have a bit of a handicap,” Pearl agreed.

… False continued to flip the trapdoors aggressively. She knew it wouldn’t help much, but dang, she was shakened and distressed. And she didn’t want to make her teammates feel worse by venting, so she took it out on these poor trapdoors. She trained her eyes on the trapdoors and let the mindless action take over.

“Hey, Falsie? Saw you lagging behind.”

It was Ren. Of course it was Ren. “Oh, hi,” False said nonchalantly. “I was just…” she vaguely gestured around, but she couldn't find an excuse. (Not that she needed one anyway. Ren wouldn’t mind.)

Ren still had that stupid smile plastered to his face. False literally had no idea why Ren could keep being so positive, yet it was the genuine sort of positive. Like Ren really thought the Yellow Yaks could do good. He really believed in them. He really believed in _False_ —

False exhaled. Now she felt guilty for not supporting Ren like he had supported the rest of the Yaks. His jokes and encouraging words filled up the odd silence around the Yaks, and False didn’t want to think how awkward they would be without Ren. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed out now. The situation does _not_ look good.”

“Yeah, I feel you.” Ren took a step closer. “But we can bring this back! I know we can!”

False looked at Ren, his eyes hopeful and sincere. And strangely, she felt herself be infected by his optimism.

… Because if Ren was smiling for everyone, she would smile for him too. Because they were friends, and False couldn’t rely on Ren to always cheer her up. 

They quietly stayed by each other’s side, nibbling on bananas. Several minutes passed. (False noticed Ren deliberately sat with her instead of Pearl and Cub. Was it because she looked the most upset after Battle Box?)

“It’s time to vote for the fourth game,” Ren noted. He stood up, brushed invisible dust off his pants, and stretched. “C’mon! Let’s go!” He looked back at False with his signature grin, slightest hint of concern in his face.

False returned the smile, not wanting to worry Ren. “Yup, let’s go!” She truly felt a little better after the short break, and hope seeped into her heart once more.

And False knew even if they got ninth when the Championship ended, _at least they tried._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone gets the idea that Stan Twitt rigged MCC8, no they didn’t, Pink Parrots won fair and square, Stan might just have boosted their confidence and ego a little… 
> 
> Technoblade gets a slight redemption arc here, because at least Techno stated he was joking when he said hitting False was a miss (in MCC9 Dodgebolt). Dream (and George and Puffy) said both MCC10 Dodgebolt teams (Pete, False, Cub, Joel, Scott, Shubble, Quig, Lizzie) were slow and kept on missing, and they could pretend those were the two viewer teams (ouch). I get that throwing jokes is Michael and Burren’s sense of humour but it still made me a little :/ that they didn’t clarify it like Techno did. 
> 
> Lyrics from Warriors (Imagine Dragons) and Waving Through a Window (Dear Evan Hansen). The title of this chapter and the last one ("Hope is Strong" + "But Misery's a Little Quicker") is a lyric from Battle Scars.
> 
> Idk how three games from MCC8 can spawn a 7k chapter. Man, when am I ever gonna get to our beloved MCC9 lmao.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Would like to know what you thought :D Comments appreciated!


	13. Trial and Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 8th Championship continues, the Yaks have fun in Ace Race, Fundy and Wilbur annoy them during break, the birth of "Wilbutt", the Yaks have a "mega cringe group hug", they prepare to watch the Dodgebolt duel of the decade while completely oblivious to their future domination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Yaks’ interaction with Purple Pandas and Wilbur is based after (cute) events that happened irl lol.
> 
> I am spreading "Wilbutt" everywhere, because this is probably the closest thing we'll get to mutual SBI-Hermitcraft interaction that's born out of sheer randomness. And it is very, very nice that people care about hermits other than Grian.

_We can be heroes for ever and ever-_

_What d'you say?_

* * *

The Yellow Yaks entered the Decision Dome, eager to gain back their coins after Battle Box. Before they voted for the fourth game, they were randomly given a power up and hence they decided to dunk Purple Pandas. The Yaks didn’t have much of a reason; it was just funny. The Purple Pandas, in their cute onesies, exaggeratedly complained about not having a chance to vote.

“Why? _Why??”_ Fundy whined. “What did we dooo?”

Cub merely smirked. “Hah! Get dunked on!”

“I HATE IT HERE!” Krinios gasped, mock offended. “I HATE HERMITCRAFT!”

“WE SUCK WHYYY?” Kara squealed, waving her fists in the air. 

“CUBFAN NO I WAS A FAN!” Fundy cried out, eyes dramatically large and watery. “I killed you in Battle Box but _I was a fan!_ ”

“RUDE!” False yelled back, but she could tell neither side was genuinely upset. In fact, Kara was clutching her sides and laughing. 

“HERMITCRAFT YUCKY!” Fundy pouted, looking like a miserable four-year-old. “I _liked_ you guys!”

“Awww, look at them,” Ren chuckled. He made heart signs with his hands to show Purple they meant no ill will. 

Ace Race ended up being chosen, which the Yaks weren’t particularly good at but enjoyed because it was quick paced and fun. In fact, they agreed it was one of the funnest, if not _the_ funnest game in the entire Championship.

“I haven’t played this before,” Cub remarked as the Yaks walked over to the Ace Race course.

“You’ll love it, dude!” Ren reassured him. Both Pearl and False nodded.

“Your first time will probably suck,” Cub read out loud from the signs that displayed the Ace Race instructions. “Uh oh! I’m in trouble!” he chuckled nervously. “Gonna drag you guys down.”

Ren patted Cub’s shoulder. “Hey Cub, even if you do badly, it doesn’t matter. It’s just super fun.”

“Yeah, yeah.” False nodded.

Upon hearing what his teammates said, Cub looked relieved and even excited to try out the Ace Race course. After their loss in Battle Box, it was time for them to chill and enjoy themselves. 

Ace Race began with a bang and all participants immediately took off, making sure to go on conveyor belts that sped them up. The players were launched up and landed on inflatable trampolines to cushion their fall. 

“For a brief moment, I was first!” Ren felt the need to tell everyone just as False dashed ahead of him.

“Well, now you’ve got some competition!” False cheered, blonde hair flying behind her.

“Ohh geez!” Ren mocked pouted. “Save your breath.”

It was nice to be able to banter with friends. The thing about Ace Race was that it was fast and engaging, giving the players an unparalleled adrenaline rush. Ren happily went down a zip line as participants around him screamed and cursed. 

Ren was still in awe of the beauty of the Championships despite it being his fifth time participating. Everything was so meticulous and well-organized. Even though he knew he wouldn’t get a high rank, he still enjoyed being in the Championship. And he knew his friends did as well, or else they wouldn’t be joining again and again.

“Rendog, you need to move,” came a voice from behind, jolting Ren out of his pleasant thoughts. It was Burren from Pink Parrots. “You’re old, and you’re in my way.”

Ren frowned, only slightly. Instead of replying, he turned his focus to his teammates’ voices from his ear radio.

Ren knew he _was_ old compared to most Championship participants. And Burren (probably, hopefully) meant it as some non-offensive, supposed-to-be-funny smack talk. Ren didn’t know Burren, so he couldn’t judge. (And Fruit did mention the Pink Parrots seemed to be affected by some weird bloodlust that day, so they weren’t completely themselves.)

“This is so cool.” Ren let the words fall out of his mouth as some contraption bounced him upwards.

“Ahh! I fell!” came False’s shriek. “Oh, I fell off the same time as someone else, so it’s cool.”

Ren then heard False say, “Fundy, my dude, you okay?” then Fundy’s distant screech of “WHY DID YOU DUNK US?!” The Yellow Yaks giggled, amused by Fundy’s frustration. 

“Wow, this is pretty awesome actually,” Cub said after a while. Ren fought back a grin.

“It’s cool, ey Cub?”

“Yeah, this is nice.”

“It _is_ pretty fun,” False agreed.

The rest of the course went by quickly and relatively painlessly. The Yaks jokingly yelled at players from other teams (“Shubble! _No!_ ” “Sylvee, move outta the way! I’m coming through!”) and greeted friends that passed by, with the occasional “dang it!” and “what the heck!” accompanied by panicked British shouting.

“Wait what?” False once cried out. “Hello?” 

Ren had no idea what she was up to, since he was in front of her, but she sounded extremely confused. 

“Okay, okay,” came False’s agitated voice, then she sighed. “ _Blimey._ ”

Ren couldn’t help but chuckle. “You okay, Falsie!”

 ** _“No!”_** False exclaimed. “I-it wasn’t working! I kept on falling off the launch pad!”

As they ran, they discussed how certain players could use shortcuts, and False commented they must have religiously rewatched their footage.

“They’re way more serious than us. I mean, Pearl took it most seriously this month. You’re doing practice and everything!” Ren said. 

“I’m so bad at this. I mean, I’m just a builder, just someone from 3-G,” Pearl replied with a laugh. “So I had to practice PvP and Parkour.”

Pearl finished the quickest, coming in 25th place, and False, the last to arrive, came in 32nd. It didn’t matter as much because they all had a great time. The Yaks met up to analyse the race course while the other participants cheered for those who hadn’t finished yet. Fundy in particular seemed a little stuck, with people teasingly calling him “fungi” and “fungus”. Still, everybody managed to finish before the time limit. Once the scores were released, the Yaks could only gape at the fastest laps, marvelling how much of a beast Techno was. (The Yaks were still in ninth.)

“We’re practicing for next month, right guys?” False asked, crossing her arms. “And we’ll practice for the month after the next month.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Ren chimed in. “Trial and error, guys. Practice makes perfect.”

Now that the fourth game was over, it was time for a break. It was also time for the infamous Audience Takeover which was Totally-Not-Rigged by Stan Twitt. 

“Ahh yes, we’re playing whatever Techno and Dream want to play,” Pearl drawled. “I bet it’s Skyblockle.”

“Never mind that for now, let’s just rest our bodies for a sec.” Ren flopped down on a bench, his muscles aching. “Phew!”

“Ren, dude, we gotta sit in line! Our jackets, man!” False insisted.

So the Yaks sat in a row, drinking water and munching on False’s bananas. She seemed to have an infinite source of them and did not explain why. (It was probably for the memes and fourth wall breaking.)

Cub brought everyone MooPop (Scar had stuffed four bottles of that… carbonated mushroom milk or whatever the heck it was in Cub’s hands before he left for the Championship). Pearl wrinkled her nose at the smell, but the hermits convinced her to try some. Despite the taste being… unconventional, the drink was cool and refreshing. Ren exhaled, and felt his heartbeat gradually return to normal after Ace Race, but the adrenaline and excitement lingered. 

And for a while, being ninth didn’t feel so bad after all.

* * *

_Though nothing will keep us together_

_We could steal time just for one day_

* * *

A head suddenly popped between Pearl and Ren. False turned to see purple panda ears sticking out of a white hoodie. It was a beaming Fundy. The Yaks watched as Fundy pulled out his phone and took a selfie of him with the Yellow Yaks. Ah, that was right, Fundy was a fan of Hermitcraft. “Hope you’re okay with that,” Fundy said with a sheepish grin. “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind being a part of Hermitcraft.”

Pearl laughed. “In fact, you look like you’re part of Teams Yaks now.”

“Aww, look at his little ears,” Ren commented. “He’s cute.”

False laughed. Fundy did look a little cute, just like when Wilbur tried to get False’s attention some Championships ago. “Well, to get into 3-H, you would have to suck at PvP, and you’re certainly not,” False quipped.

“I got stuck in the Ace Race map though,” Fundy reminded her. 

“Yeah, but there was that ace of yours in the 6th Dodgebolt.”

“Y-you remember?” Fundy asked in disbelief, pleasantly surprised. 

“Well, I have been rewatching some footage,” False said with a shrug. “That was super cool.”

Fundy chuckled. “Anyways, Iskall would just roast me for every second I’m in Hermitcraft. Now I feel a little bad for trolling him.”

“Oh yeah!” Cub looked up, eyes meeting with Fundy’s. “Fundy, you asked Iskall for help before.”

“Wait wait wait.” False wrinkled her nose. “Weren’t you supposed to keep that a secret?”

Fundy rubbed the back of his head. “Well, uh, I asked Iskall to, but since you guys are hermits, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“Iskall used the I.O.U., didn’t he?” False said, remembering what Pete and H said after the hermits got beat up last time. “To make you help the hermits when Pete and H proposed that school law to protect us.”

Fundy raised his eyebrows. “Oh, nah, the I.O.U.’s still there. Iskall hasn’t used it, so I live in perpetual fear.”

“Good luck, dude,” Ren could only say. “I.O.U.’s are brutal. Especially from Iskall. Even though he’s my bro.”

After a while, Fundy returned to chat with his team. False thought it was nice to have a normal conversation with 3-A students without them either a) looking down on them or b) trying to bring them up. The hermits and main campus students felt like equals despite Stan Twitt’s horrendous ranking system. 

False stood up and started to stretch. Skyblockle was probably chosen, and it was one of the most PvP intensive games, so she definitely needed to warm up. She raised an arm—

Only for it to smack into someone behind her.

A little panicked, False glanced up. A guy with curly brown hair looked down.

“Hello,” Wilbur said it was the most natural thing in the world.

False blinked, and automatically stepped away. “Hi? What are you doing?” Wilbur was… standing suspiciously close to her.

“Covering up the Y so you’re Yellow Acks,” Wilbur said nonchalantly.

“Wilbur, you butt,” False huffed to herself, annoyed he had ruined the Yaks’ line. Showing off the YAKS on their back was the very purpose of having a uniform! She moved around so she was standing behind Wilbur. “Aha! See, it still says Yaks! Take that, Wilbur. You butt.” She added the last two words as an afterthought. 

“We should call him Wilbutt,” Ren said as he loudly slurped his MooPop. 

“Wilbutt it is,” False replied brightly.

Wilbur turned around to stare at False. “Can you guys stop talking about me as if I’m not here?”

False crossed her arms. “I mean, you’re not part of the Yaks!” she exclaimed, glaring at Wilbur. 

Wilbur did not move. “You know, my team was joking about how you hermits look like AIs. Sitting perfectly still in a row.”

“That’s because all hermits actually _are_ AIs controlled by Doc. He uses a voice changer for all of us and everything,” Ren casually said. 

Wilbur laughed. “Ohh, I loved that episode. Doc’s Season Six finale gave me the shivers.”

“I thought you only watched Grian, to be honest.”

“False, do you really think that lowly of me? I’m hurt.”

Wilbur then stepped behind False so he was once again covering the letter. Seeing this, Cub walked over to False, curious about what was going on. False responded immediately.

“Cub, get in line! Don’t worry about it.” False waved a dismissing hand. Cub chortled.

“I just wanna see what’s Wilbutt up to!”

“The nickname really is sticking, isn’t it?” Wilbur muttered to himself, but judging from his tone, he found it endearing.

“Cub, we’ve got to form the YAKS,” False insisted, and Cub went back to his original position. 

Wilbur and False continued to nudge each other. Wilbur was eerily silent, but the smile on his face told everyone he enjoyed being an annoyance. False was quietly laughing. “I-I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Wilbutt, get away!”

False took a few steps forward then turned around, expecting Wilbur to follow her, but he was suddenly at Pearl’s. “I see how it is,” False drawled, returning to her original position. “You got bored of annoying me, did you?”

“Hello, sir, you’re blocking my K,” Pearl informed Wilbur with a grin. Wilbur just smiled and continued to stand behind Pearl. “Hey? Sir?”

“Well, you’re a lot more polite than the others who call me Wilbutt,” Wilbur told Pearl, making sure his voice was loud enough so the hermits could hear him. “And I’m covering up the K now so you can be Team Yas.”

“You really wanna be in the Yaks, don’t you,” Ren laughed. “You’ve got Yak envy now.”

“Team Yassss,” Wilbur repeated, seemingly amused. He stretched out an arm to block Pearl, but she just rolled her eyes and swatted it away.

“Nuh huh, Wilbutt, you can’t stop the Yaks,” False proudly declared, hands on hips. 

“Ahh, the many potentials that this team uniform gives us,” Cub remarked. 

“The letters were on display for everyone to see,” Wilbur said innocently. “How can I _not_?”

“We could be Team Ass,” Ren piped up.

“Yeah, saying that is _totally_ necessary,” False quipped.

Wilbur continued to “bully” the Yellow Yaks until break time was over. The Yaks said “Bye, Wilbutt” in near perfect unison, Wilbur ducked his head, hid his smiles, and went back to his team.

False knew the hermits would not have an opportunity to interact with most main campus students if it wasn’t for the Championship. Although some of them probably thought they were lame, quite a lot of them were friendly and nice. Even members of the student council like Wilbur and Fundy. And chatting with them made False forget they were from opposite spectrums in MCYT school. 

Being a hermit and having a classroom separate from everyone else did distance them from other students, and thankfully the Championship acted as a bridge. The hermits met Fruit and H through Championship practice and they met Pete when they got beat up after the 6th Championship. Even though the hermits liked to keep to themselves and the 3-GH sphere, several main campus students have attempted conversation, like Techno, Wilbur and Fundy. It was impossible not to interact with 3-A students, as “high and mighty” as they were.

But that brief moment of solidarity, of togetherness despite coming from different classes and social circles, was interrupted with the results of the vote. Skyblockle won with a whopping 84.6% of votes, no doubt due to the united force of Techno and Dream’s fans. Even if barriers were broken down among the forty Championship participants, it was a whole other world when it concerned the fans of the participants.

“And Skyblockle’s a risky PvP game,” Pearl noted. “It’s not something like Build Mart or Bingo. Even if you’re good at PvP, if you’re unlucky, your entire team can get wiped out.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda like Survival Games. Except Skyblockle definitely has a bigger focus on PvP compared to Survival Games,” Ren agreed.

“Anyway, my point is that these fans voted because their favourite participants told them to. Even though it could be risky. It’s just… wow, none of us can compete with that,” Pearl marvelled.

“The power of fandom and Stan Twitt,” Cub drily commented. “Sometimes it just happens.”

“Actually, sometimes I’m glad we’re not massively popular,” Ren said. “Or else we’ll get cancelled every second and be somehow dragged into speedrunning drama despite not being speedrunners.”

“Oh yeah, Cub, you’re an _actual_ astrophysicist, aren’t you?” False casually asked. 

Cub shrugged. “I do have a degree, and I know a lot about Minecraft unlike a certain astrophysicist somebody hired, so I’m pretty qualified to comment on speedrunning cheating scandals, but nah. Don’t want to involve myself with that.”

“Wise words, Cub, wise words.” Ren patted Cub’s back. “It’s not worth the attention.”

“All these statistics and astrophysicist talk is fun, but we should focus on our Skyblockle strategy.” False, as the unofficial leader during PvP games, redirected everyone’s attention to their most pressing matter. “Here’s what I read…”

* * *

_I will be king_

_And you will be queen_

_Though nothing will drive them away_

_We can beat them, just for one day_

* * *

The Yaks couldn’t be too upset by Skyblockle being chosen, considering it was utterly predictable and they were helpless against the wishes of the majority. None of them knew how Skyblockle worked, so they felt a little anxious. False even called it “the worst thing ever”. 

The Yaks tried. They genuinely did. In the middle of the game, Ren said it was the best they’d ever done, and False replied with an ominous “don’t jinx it”. 

It was a bit of a mess, with them throwing each other lapis (for enchanting) and sticks and swords. At one point they were so absorbed in gearing up that they failed to realize the border was coming right behind them.

“Cub, go go go!” False frantically nudged Cub, and he nearly fell off their little island. 

_C’mon Cub, be more aware,_ Cub scolded himself. _Don’t drag the team down._

They approached the middle of the Skyblockle arena. Someone immediately started chasing Pearl, and the others frantically scrambled up ladders and came face to face with their teachers— the Aqua Axolotls. The Axolotls grinned, but showed no mercy.

Quig swiftly slain Cub. False was furiously whacking her sword and was surprised that she killed HBomb with one hit. HBomb stared at her, eyes wide. “That scared the _crap_ outta me, False.” False could only smile before she had to run again. Ren and Pearl were eliminated, and it was all up to False. Alas, Krtzy came up the ladder and False was forced to fight him. In a few quick blows, False was killed.

“He must have had good enchantments,” False muttered as she went to find her eliminated teammates. 

“Dudes!” Ren yelled, excited. “This is the best we’ve ever done! I’m so proud of us.”

“We got two thousand coins, and we’re fourth in Skyblockle!” Pearl cheered.

“Not everyone has died yet,” Cub reminded her. “The points can still change.”

“False, you were in the zone there!” came a familiar voice. It was HBomb, standing on the sidelines as he observed his surviving Aqua teammates. “You scared the heck outta me!”

False nervously laughed. “My PvP brain was in action. I-I don’t remember how I did that.”

The Yaks clustered together and reflected on what they had done well and what they could improve on next time. To their surprise, they were still fourth even when the game ended.

“Wait, and we’re still fourth?! Dude!” False’s eyes were wide as she stared at the leaderboard. “I thought we were gonna lose that and go to seventh! Nicee.”

“Hey, we beat Pink Parrots!” Pearl cheered. “Aha! Take that, after you got us in Battle Box!”

“Ohh, we need to take a photo to remember that.”

“Yup, definitely!”

Their bodies still ached from the injuries they had gotten in Battle Box, but they allowed themselves to enjoy their small victory. 

“This is a moment for the Yaks,” Ren declared proudly as he clapped. 

“That’s what we were saying, right?” Pearl said with a bright smile. “We’ll give them a handicap for the first few rounds.”

Ren pointed to the individual leaderboard for Skyblockle which had just popped up. “And look, we all did around the same! We all did our jobs. Perfect.”

“Now I wanna play some Build Mart, now that we’ve proven our strategies can work.” False couldn’t help but smile, uplifted by their relative success in a game they were supposed to be weak in.

“Yeah!” Ren nudged Cub. “Cub came up with a really good strategy for Build Mart.”

Cub laughed. “ _We_ came up with a good strategy. Let’s hope it gets played!”

False said she did pretty well in Bingo last time, so she wanted Bingo. Thankfully, due to Championship “meta”, the last few games were usually team games, so False got her wish.

Bingo was a frenzy of calling out items and wondering which Bingo slots were taken up. There was some confusion over how the map was supposed to be read, which created quite a struggle. At one point, Quig from Aqua Axolotls idly called out, “Can you end the game? We already finished.” which was the biggest flex ever.

The Yaks ended up getting 950 coins, which was… quite the distance away from the team above them who got 2100 coins.

“I got five challenges,” False muttered to herself. “I think I got six last time, so I’m happy.”

After the coins from Bingo were added up, the Yaks could take a good look at the leaderboard, and predictably, the Yellow Yaks were still in ninth. “All the teams have more than ten thousand coins, dude!” Pearl cried out. “It’s just us with seven thousand and Orange with three thousand.”

“I think we did okay,” False insisted, not wanting to feel negative. They had brought their spirits up after Battle Box, and she didn’t want it to be ruined. “We’re just fine.”  
Pearl nodded. “Yup, and we had fun, and that’s what really matters, right?”

The next game chosen was Build Mart, and the Yaks heaved a sigh of relief. This was something they were good at and something they had prepared for. “If it isn’t Sands of Time or Build Mart, we rage quit,” False had said humorously. 

It was time for the Yaks to reveal their strategy. Each member would go to a different area of the “supermarket” (lumber, stone, colours, ores, and outdoors) and pick up every item there, then go back to their work bench and assemble the builds. To them, the strategy seemed pretty solid, and the Yaks thought they were outsmarting everyone. 

But—

The Yellow Yaks watched as other teams scored point after point, completed build after build. Their hands hurt as they scrambled for resources. They tried to call for help, only to realize everyone was too wrapped up in their own thoughts.

The seconds ticked down. Cub was struggling to cut quartz into slabs. Ren was agonizing on how he was missing one smooth stone slab. Build Mart was a confusing, stressful mess, and when it ended, all of them were relieved yet upset.

“I messed up so badly!” Ren cringed and burrowed his head in his arms. “One slab! Geez!”

False wiped sweat off her forehead. “All I can say is, that was _not_ the strat,” she immediately told everyone, getting straight to business. “We’re not all on the same wavelength.”

“That’s not it.” Cub was studying the scores of the teams with a frown on his face. “You get points based on who finishes it first too. Which I didn’t realize.” Cub laughed, but he looked like he was in emotional pain. “Better not do that next time.”

“And this was supposed to be our game… we’re builders…” Pearl looked at the ground, deflated. 

“We messed up. We messed up a lot,” Ren groaned. “And since we were coming from different sections, the resources arrived at different times. There were a good two minutes that we couldn’t do anything.”  
“Yeah, I was waiting around for a long time,” Pearl agreed, fidgeting with her sleeve. “We just couldn’t manage our resources efficiently.”

Upon hearing his teammates talk about the many problems they faced, Cub swallowed. It felt like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over his heart. “Sorry guys. I-I was the one who suggested the strategy. I’m the one to blame.”

“No, no.”

“We all agreed to it.”

“Don’t say that, Cub!”

All three of the Yaks immediately protested, but Cub still felt like he was responsible, and felt horrible. 

“I-I think it’s the points,” Cub mumbled. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to hide that they were shaking. “I was unaware you got points for completing a build first. So, uh, that’s the thing!” He tried to smile, but it came out wrong.

The Yaks were silent once again, each of them wallowing in their own thoughts as they tried to rationalize what just happened. Cub in particular felt especially guilty, because he had suggested something without doing enough research. Not only had he cost them coins, but also their morale. They had worked so hard to encourage each other after the low that was Battle Box. Cub trailed after the Yaks as they walked to the Decision Dome, his head hung low. 

“I think the strat could work,” Ren suddenly suggested, being the eternal optimist he was. Maybe he didn’t want Cub to feel bad. “We just didn’t think about the logistics. Like, the left chest should be for rocks, the right chest for—“

False sighed. She knew when to tinker on a strategy, and when to give it up completely, and she couldn’t let Ren cling onto something that would never succeed. “No, I don’t think it’ll work,” she bluntly stated. Cub winced, remembering the false confidence they had before Built Mart. They were so _sure_ it would work. “We didn’t use the chests much,” False continued. “We should just focus on the builds; if you’re not feeling confident, have two work on the same build. Then separate and go to different sections to collect resources.”

“I still think that strategy was _definitely_ worth trying,” Ren continued to insist, and Cub didn’t know whether to hug him or punch him. “Yeah, yeah,” Cub quietly added.

But the Yaks put Build Mart behind them and focused on choosing the last game. It had a 3x multiplier, hence it was very important (but it wasn’t like the Yaks could move up a rank, they were so behind eighth place). 

Sands of Time, a team game, was chosen. It was one of the better games for the Yaks, so they were cool with it. They decided to play conservative and bank their coins, because last time Iskall had six hundred, but then he died. 

Noxcrew had some technical difficulties, so all teams had to wait for a while. The Yaks took the time to talk about getting ninth place again and not seventh like they had wished. Having played seven events, including their total defeat in Battle Box, they were all exhausted. Adrenaline was running out. Ren took a look at his teammates and decided to boost morale.

“Listen, Yaks.” The three Yaks stared up at Ren, wondering what else he could say after his endless encouragement. “We definitely won the best outfit of the Championships, thanks to Foxy.” Ren did a little twirl to show off the letter on his back.

“Of course.” “Totally.” The others nodded in agreement, although not with the same level of energy as Ren. 

“And we’re the most awesome team,” Ren announced with a proud grin. “I know it sounds cheesy, but who cares about points? Friendship was the real winner today.” 

… What Ren said was true, but it was undeniable that placing ninth again was upsetting. It was their dream to get into Dodgebolt to prove everyone wrong (and it was the only way the hermits could get back into the main campus). Ren saw the downcast looks of his friends, and took a deep breath. “Hey,” he said, voice only slightly wobbly. “Can we have a mega cringe group hug?”

Smiles slowly snuck onto the Yaks’ faces. “Awww, sure.”

They hugged each other, making sure not to touch False’s bad arm. Sure, they were all sweaty and tired and they probably smelled horrible, but there was nothing like the warmth they shared. They shut their eyes and rested their chins on each other’s arms, their limbs so tightly intertwined they barely knew who was who anymore. But did it matter? They were a _team._

“We’re embracing the cringe,” Ren quietly chuckled. “ _Literally._ ”

As they waited, they chatted about practicing for the next Championship, and wanted to do the parkour course together (the hermits still hadn’t managed to finish it). False suggested playing UHC, while Pearl laughed and said she wasn’t a parkour master at all because she finished the same around False did. 

“You know what makes me sad? False, Cub and I— I mean, False and Cub are generally pretty good PvPers,” Ren sighed. “I mean, I’m not like a _terrible_ PvPer, but I feel like we suck at PvP so bad, dudes!”

“Well, that’s compared to the top PvPers we see here,” False pointed out. “They spend hours upon hours training.”

“We’re just getting wrecked! But points aside, I think we did really really well in Skyblockle.”

They enthusiastically discussed Skyblockle and pointed out that they were doing good until they reached the middle and split up. Ren and Cub even got killed by people they didn’t realize were there. Despite all four of them being good friends, they needed to remind themselves teamwork was essential in the Championship. Sometimes they were too concerned about their individual performance, and forgot they couldn’t succeed alone. They talked about needing better enchantments and more powerful gear, then worked out a way to stay in the middle without being immediately targeted. 

“So Skyblockle might actually become one of our strongest events,” Ren remarked. “Which is actually kinda weird to say!”

False had to be the realist to the optimist Ren. “I wouldn’t say the strongest, but we can _survive_ Skyblockle. We just need to survive in the Championship since we kind of suck.”

“And if we do more parkour training, we don’t have to be scared of parkour!”

“I can teach you guys my… ways,” Pearl coughed. She was suddenly self conscious that everyone was looking at her. “Just kidding, I’m actually horrible at Parkour,” she quickly added. 

Ren grinned. “You can be our sensei. A silhouette against the setting sun as Cub, False and I jump past the levels. Now that’s a cool image.”

The seconds ticked down, and the Yaks stopped their chattering after realizing the final game was upon them. They knew no matter how well they did, they would still get ninth, but hey, they weren’t going to be sore losers about it.

Sands of Time passed by quickly. There were a few hiccups, such as when Cub panicked and left the dungeon when they still had time, and when Ren didn’t know everyone else had left. Still, they did pretty decently by their standards, and came sixth. The Yaks reckoned they would’ve done better if they had better luck with the vaults.

With the main Championship event finished, the Yellow Yaks got ninth as predicted, but they ended up getting 10028 coins, which they chose to feel proud of. (“We’re in the 10k club, guys!” “#NotLast, get it trending!”)

“We’re just three thousand coins away from eighth,” Ren mentioned. “Better than last time, when we were like, ten thousand coins away.”

Everyone stared at him skeptically. “Really? Is that possible?” Pearl asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Ren grinned sheepishly. “Geez, I’m just trying to make us feel better.”

“Well, maybe you just made us feel _worse_.”

Ren swiftly changed the topic to avoid more awkwardness. “Look, we’re playing Championship Placement Bingo, right? We wanna get all ten rankings. That’s our true goal. We got ninth, we got seventh—”

“And we got ninth again,” False exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. “Just because we like that number so much.”

Ren, as always, was quick to chime in, even if False sounded sarcastic. “Yeah. Nine is our sweet spot.”

“Yeah,” False said, just a little mockingly, not enough to upset anyone or anything. “That’s what we know and love.”

“Eventually we’ll slowly make our way up the top.” Pearl brushed her beige hair out of her face. “Like we’ll get seventh, then fifth, and maybe we’ll make it to fourth!”

False shrugged. “Or maybe we’ll get ninth four times in a row. Who knows.”

“Alright people, time to put that behind us!” Ren gestured to the masses on the spectator stands, the majority of them wearing pink headbands and supporting Pink Parrots. “It’s Dodgebolt time, babey! Last month we saw the most exciting final Dodgebolt. Geez, back then I felt like I couldn’t breathe!”

“I feel it’s gonna be more intense this round,” Pearl quipped as the Yaks hurried to the Dodgebolt arena. “Aqua versus Pink? Three S tiers and HBomb on the field? This gonna be insane.”

“It’s Fwhip in the final again, dudes!” Ren cheered. He jumped up and down, trying to catch Fwhip’s attention. ““COME ON, FWHIPPY!” Ren hollered from the sidelines. “YOU GOT THIS BABEY!”

“Go Fwhip!” Pearl whooped. “Legacy for the win!”

Fwhip, already standing in the arena, waved back at the Yaks. He shouted something, but his voice was completely drowned out by the din. Nevertheless, the huge beam on his face told everyone he appreciated the support.

“Aqua’s **_got_** to win, because everyone wants Techno and Dream to win sooo badly,” False declared as she picked up an aqua banner. She turned to her teammates, not expecting any resistance. She cocked an eyebrow. “Aqua has to win, right?”

Ren nodded vigorously. “It’s gotta be an upset.”

“Purely to upset everybody,” False agreed. ‘We can’t let Stan Twitt have this.”

Stan Twitt, was of course freaking out. “OMGFHFDGSFHG!” they screeched. “DREAM’S GOTTA WIN AFTER BEING LOCKED IN SANDS OF TIME JAIL! TECHNO’S GOT TO WIN AFTER HE LOST AGAINST HBOMB LAST TIME! And Michael and Burren deserve to win too I guess.” 80% of the audience cheered, echoing Stan Twitt. The spectator stands were covered with an overwhelming amount of pink decorations.

But among the forty Championship participants, the situation was reversed. Practically everyone except for Pink Parrots’ friends were rooting for Aqua. It appeared that everyone wanted an upset too, and unanimously agreed to support the team that wasn’t favoured by the majority.

It was the Yellow Yaks’ dream to get into Dodgebolt, but that dream seemed more unattainable than ever when they saw who were in the finals. The rivals Technoblade and Dream had teamed up against H, who was not as skilled as Techno or Dream, but his leadership skills were unparalleled. Not to mention H had a stronger Quig by his side, and his loyal friends Fwhip and Joel. Michael and Burren were good players too, and the Yaks wouldn’t be surprised if they popped off in Dodgebolt. Legendary people were on the field, competing for the crown. It was the fateful duel in the climax of a movie, the protagonist and the villain facing each other to end it for once and for all. 

As for the Yaks?

They were just the pawns, the faceless background characters, interchangeable with points and coins. Yet another kill scored by Techno, nothing more than a blank dummy, nothing more than bragging rights. The Yellow Yaks gripped the railings and gaped at the power of the two Dodgebolt teams, their faces and figures blurring in the crowd. They were nothing more than pawns. 

.

.

.

At least, they were the pawns in _this_ Championship.

Because what were heroes without defeat? What were champions without losing? What were protagonists without setbacks?

Nobody was born a champion. 

Victory was achieved through trial and error. Losing was just the natural predecessor to winning. 

The Yellow Yaks did not know it, but they would soon prove that to everybody.

Duo by duo.

Championship by championship.

And when they finally struck, it was far too late for anyone to stop them.

* * *

_Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever_

_Then we could be heroes, just for one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending got a little dramatic lmao :D
> 
> MCC8 Yellow Yaks has a special spot in my heart. I really wanted to bring attention to this team and this POV because it's the perfect foreshadow for MCC9-12 (by extension MCC13, but False is the only one there lol). 
> 
> Except MCC11, the Yellow Yaks would get into Dodgebolt in duos. False + Ren in MCC9, False + Cub in MCC10, Cub + Pearl in MCC12. They might not be able to win with all four of them together, but they could surely do good in duos.
> 
> Lyrics from Heroes by David Bowie, but specifically the Peter Gabriel version suits this chapter (because it's in Frostbyte's playlist lol). 
> 
> Excited to see what you guys think! Next chapter will be about HBomb and his team losing MCC8 Dodgebolt :DD very fun, amirite :P


	14. Little Dark Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HBomb and his team lose the 8th Championship, Fruit cheers H up, the Yellow Yaks face both support and criticism, they deal with getting ninth again, everyone has a Bad Time, Ren is quiet, Pearl is determined, Cub talks with Scar, False can’t take it anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue is based after (but not completely copied) from the comments in False’s MCC8 VOD. So there is some negativity here like Chapter 11 (which had the hermittwt selfie day thing, and by the way, 404twt continued to use the 7th, but I really don’t care anymore because it’s not worth my energy). 
> 
> Also, H compared Fruit, Pete (and Dream) to Korosensei, can’t believe he made Battle Scars canon. (Just kidding.) By the way, H’s favourite Assassination Classroom character is apparently Kayano. H has excellent taste. 
> 
> The way I view their houses here is like their Hermitcraft main base but… tiny? And they live alone (some have pets). So even though Ren has Jono, he still lives alone. Hermitcraft logic.

_The image of the dead_

_Dead ends in my mind_

_Policemen swear to God_

_Love's seeping from the guns_

_I know my friends and I_

_Would probably turn and run_

* * *

The Aqua Axolotls would win the 8th Championship.

That was what H said when they were the last team to get out of Sands of Time. They cheered, exuberant. They were getting into Dodgebolt! They could win this whole thing!

H and his team stepped onto the Dodgebolt field. Despite it being summer, H shivered. He wiped his sweaty hands on his aqua plaid jacket.

Aqua banners surrounded his side of the field, and the Axolotls looked up to see the majority of the participants cheering for them. But outside of the Championship arena, the spectator stands were _drenched_ in Pink, and Stan Twitt’s UwU screeching was clearly audible. 

The audience wanted Pink to win. And solely because of that fact, the participants wanted Aqua to win. They couldn’t let Pink win as expected and show off their protagonist power; HBomb, the leader of the “villainous” Aqua Axolotls, had to stop them.

“Boys, remember to breathe,” H reminded his teammates.

“I’m breathing, I’m breathing H!” Joel shrieked in such a high-pitched voice that H knew he totally wasn’t breathing. 

“Dude, I can’t believe me and Fwhip are gonna become the first back-to-back champions,” H stated, his heart thumping so quickly it felt like it might jump out of his ribcage. “Me and Quig are gonna become the first three time winners, and Joel’s about to win his first game. Let’s GO!”

… Maybe stating their goals would boost their morale and help them win. Maybe that would calm them down instead of making them cocky. Behind H, the Aqua supporters screamed and waved their banners.

“YOU GOT THIS HMAMA! Do what you did last time!”

H turned with a beam. “Hey Ren! Thanks for the support!”

“I can’t believe a builder is gonna be the first back-to-back winner,” False’s voice drifted towards H. She flashed the Axolotls a thumbs up. “Go on, my dudes. We’ll be cheering you on.”

Fwhip laughed. “Back-to-back winners, eh? It’s not going to be easy.”

“True, but we’re still doing it.” H was determined. “Guys, let’s go!”

The seconds ticked down, and H scanned his opponents. The Pink Parrots were discussing their strategies, but H could tell they looked confident. H gulped, and tried not to think too much about facing the top two PvPers. H had his Aqua Axolotls, and that was enough for him. 

During their first round, H was swiftly eliminated by Technoblade, his old opponent from the 7th Championship. H fought back a sigh, and stared at the bright pink paint dripping off his chest plate. He scrambled up the stairs so he could get a good look at the Dodgebolt field. 

H wanted to help his team so badly— too bad he was taken out immediately. H gripped the railing. _Breathe in, breathe out,_ he ordered himself, taking his own advice. 

_It’s okay. I can help them from the sidelines,_ H told himself, but a nasty voice was whispering to him _“you should’ve been better at dodging....”_

H shook his head, and returned to reality. Practically every Championship participant was cheering for them. He couldn’t let them down. 

“Attaboy!” he yelled when Quig shot Michael. But Quig was then eliminated by Techno. Quig and H, known masters at Dodgebolt, were now out, leaving the 3-G crafters Joel and Fwhip alone on the field. Joel was even a first timer. When Fwhip and Joel looked up at H and Quig with the slightest hint of confusion, H knew he had to take charge.

“Aim for Techno and Dream,” H ordered. “Do _not_ target Burren— he’s the bait. Call out who you’re going for.”

“I’m going for Dream,” Joel said, and Fwhip quickly followed. “I’m going for Techno.”

Fwhip shot, but he hit Burren instead. H was quick to comment despite the outcome being unexpected. “You got a kill! Nice!”

But Fwhip was shot by Techno (that guy was a _beast!_ ) and Joel, the new guy, was suddenly burdened with a 1v2.

“You’re good, you’re good! You have both bullets!”

“Take your time! Take your time! Don’t just shoot.”

The remaining Axolotls soothed Joel without a second of hesitation, and Joel gulped. He raised his gun, aiming it towards Technoblade. 

He missed, but H instantly said, “Good try!”

Joel proceeded to dodge a few more bullets before Dream took a bullet and shot Joel like it was the most natural thing in the world. As the Axolotls groaned, H remained unshaken. “We got this boys, don’t worry.” He nodded like he could convince himself.

“Best of five, best of five.”

“This be looking like a gender reveal party, bro.”

H bit back a chuckle. The aqua and pink decorations did resemble a gender reveal party, but they had business to attend to. “Techno went straight for me, so I’ll be taken out first. I don’t want the first shot,” H told everyone as they stepped into position again.

The second round was off to a good start. Quig got Dream (“Attaboy!”), then he and Joel were eliminated. H grabbed the aqua paintball bullet and fitted it in his gun. “I’m going for Techno. **_I want him._** ”

Techno… H had faced him just a month ago, and he’d won. Surely he could win again this time. A few tense seconds passed—

Then a blue bullet soared and splattered onto Techno. Techno’s head jerked up and he locked eyes with H.

But Techno had looked at the wrong person.

It was _Fwhip_ who had gotten Techno.

Before anybody could breathe, Burren accidentally stepped out of the Dodgebolt zone and was automatically eliminated. It was only Michael left. 

“Nice, nice, NICE—“

A fire was roaring inside H, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet went way further than he’d expected. “How did I miss that?!” H seethed, mad at himself for throwing away such a golden opportunity. He was especially mad that Fwhip had killed someone and H couldn’t, thus he had let Fwhip and his team down. 

There was a flurry of confusion and excitement as Quig and Joel shouted directions from above. Suddenly, Fwhip was gone, and he passed his bullet to H. “He got me, it’s all you!” Fwhip cried out. “You got two!”

H felt the invisible pressure imposed on him once more. His team was depending on him, and he _had_ to win this round. His fingers twitched—

He missed one shot.

“H S-tier!” came a familiar voice behind him. Was it Eret, his friend and old teammate?

No, no, no. H could _not_ afford to be distracted. His eyes narrowed in on his target—

He released.

.

.

“YESSS! Nice one, H!”

“Let’s go! Well done!”

H could not celebrate yet, despite that was what his teammates were doing. He just clapped his hands with a stoic expression, hoping he could feel his fingers again after the two Dodgebolt rounds. H exhaled, and watched as his teammates entered the Dodgeball arena again.

H finally spoke, but it was in a quieter voice. “Let’s go, boys! And I want the first shot.”

Adrenaline was pumping through H’s veins after his two kills. He was brimming with confidence, and he could barely stay still. He bounced on the soles of his feets, eager to strike—

_Splat._

Pink splashed across H’s chest once again as Dream cheered. He futilely raised a fist in his indignation. Once again, he’d been killed after two seconds of breathing. A flower nipped in the bud before it could bloom. H stopped to ponder for a few seconds, then forced himself to watch the Dodgebolt.

Quig shot Dream, and almost instantly Fwhip shot Michael. H slammed his hand on his thigh. “THERE WE GO!” he bellowed, nostrils flared. He knew it! If H couldn’t do it, his teammates would! They would cover for each other, and they would _win._

“Just breathe. The anxiety’s never been higher, but it’s fine,” H lightly stated. 

Joel then shot Techno, and H beamed like a proud father. “That’s my boy! That’s my bold Joel!”

But then Burren _clutched_ and shot both Joel and Fwhip in quick succession. “He’s nuts with it!” H pointed out, acknowledging Burren’s skills. His team had just lost, but the score was 1-2. The Aqua Axolotls could bring this back. 

“That was a good round,” H insisted when the countdown started again. “Burren just hit his shots at the very end. That’s it.”

H told Quig to get the bullet because H knew he would be targeted. Quig tried, and he managed to dodge one shot, but Dream got him in the end. Fwhip and H then picked up the bullets that were dispensed in the middle of the field.

“I want Techno,” H growled, aiming for the pink-haired guy once again, but he couldn’t help but marvel at Techno. “Techno’s movements are so good, dude. I can tell he’s been practicing.”

A blue bullet came very close to Techno, but he dodged it. H inhaled, then shot. The bullet soared and landed at Techno, and H exhaled. He’d done it once again.

  
“Nice, nice!” The Axolotls encouraged each other, and started to plan their next offence. As Quig and Fwhip yelled out warnings, H remained silent, totally focused on Dodgebolt. His feet moved even though he could barely feel them, his teammates were talking about how Pink was passing the bullets around, and H felt his chest constrict. He swallowed and tried to ignore the many pairs of eyes staring at him right now.

And then H was eliminated.

This time he audibly sighed, but he instantly switched his focus to Joel, the sole remaining Axolotl on the field. H managed to smile. “Joel, are you ready to clutch this?” It wasn’t a question.

Joel laughed nervously just as he shot Michael. Everybody “oohed” in excitement. A crafter from the lowly 3-G in Dodgebolt— what could he do? What could this newcomer do?

“He’s ready!” H declared, a mad glint in his eye. He had not doubted Joel, not even for one second. 

“First Dodgebolt, and he’s about to win a 1v3.” H was once again stating goals like they were facts, and he could not wipe that smile off his face. True, H had been eliminated without any chance to shoot, but it was Joel’s time to shine! “Look at this guy. Look at this **_boi_** _!_ ”

“LOOK AT HIM GO!” H hollered, then his voice softened as he directed his next words towards Joel. “Take your time and win this for us! Let’s _gooo!_ Everyone’s gonna look back at you, the legend himself—“

Precisely at that moment, Joel shot Dream, and the crowd went _wild._ Aqua supporters desperately clutched each other, feeling the tension in the air. Pink supporters gasped, surprised that this 3-G dude could eliminate Dream and make it look so easy. 

“OOOOOHHH!”

“That’s one more, Joel, one more! You got two of them!”

“Let’s GOOOOO!”

“Take you time.” H once again used his admittedly loud voice to cover up the cheers and screams of their friends. Joel needed guidance right now. “Don’t shoot. Breathe. **_Breathe._** Watch his movements and wait for him to turn around.”

Everybody, be they supporters of Aqua or Pink, had their eyes on Joel. Was this the birth of a new Dodgebolt star? A newcomer, who’d joined with his X-Life friends, his sleeping potential awakened when all his teammates were gone?

Joel lifted his arm, and shot.

_Boom._

H flung his arms into the air, elated. “THAT’S MY BOY!” he screamed for the entire world to know. “THAT’S A 1V3!”

Joel was actually shaking as Fwhip and Joel smothered him with hugs. “That was a 1v3!” he whimpered, voice even more higher pitched than usual. “Gosh!”

“You know who you just killed?” H demanded almost aggressively. “The so-called number one Minecrafter, Dream, in a 1v3! You did it against _all odds_.”

Joel was taking deep breaths as he tried to calm down. “Oh gosh, Lizzie’s gonna be so proud of me. One more round to go.”

“They’re nervous, they’re nervous.”

“Take the win home, babey!”

H shot a look at Pink, and indeed they were nervous. No doubt Joel’s fantastic, never-seen-before 1v3 had totally stunned them. H cackled, but the game wasn’t over yet. 2 to 2. One more round, and it was either heaven or hell.

“We got this, we got this in the bag!”

The final round of Dodgebolt began, and the crowd screamed, the Championship reaching its climax. The cheers were so loud, H could barely hear his own thoughts. All he knew was _hitting_ and _dodging_ and _winning._

“I. Want. _Techno,_ ” H murmured yet again, his eyes never leaving his enemy. Techno was _his_ kill, _his_ prey. Techno caught him looking, and just grinned cheekily. 

H could barely register what was happening. His team shouted out names and asked each other who had the bullet. H answered their questions and hopped around the field to dodge bullets. It was like he was on autopilot. His lips trembled, his throat was dry, every cell in his body was thrumming and vibrating, and H felt like he could barely breathe, yet he had never felt so alive. 

Suddenly Quig was gone. Suddenly Fwhip took out Techno. H vaguely remembered telling Quig to remind him to breathe. Suddenly Joel and Fwhip were eliminated. And just as suddenly, _it was only HBomb left._

H walked over to the middle of his side of the field and picked up his two aqua bullets. He turned them over in his palm. Funny how these two tiny items were a matter of life and death. The shouts and screeches from the audience reached a crescendo and enveloped him. H cooly stared at his opponents.

Dream and Burren on the other side. Versus him, HBomb.

“Come on, H!” “You’ve got both bullets, H.” “Think about your shots! You got this.”

Everybody wanted him to win. Everybody _depended_ on him to win. H could feel the weight of it all on his shoulders— not only his team, but his friends, the crafters, everybody in the community who just wanted an upset. H shivered despite his blood boiling. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. 

“Breathe man, _breathe._ ”

H sharply inhaled. Then his lips parted.

“ _I can’t believe I’m about to win this._ ”

That was right, wasn’t it? If he said it enough times, he would believe it and he would make it come true. A prediction. A promise. A **_prophecy._**

“H, you’re gonna clutch it!”

Joel’s encouraging voice made H grin, and he couldn’t wipe the grin off. He raised his gun and hit Burren squarely in the chest. The Aqua Axolotls roared, and the crowd mimicked it, just several times louder.

“H, you’ve never _not_ hit a bow shot before. You are probably the best bower I’ve seen in my entire life.” Quig was rambling again, but H appreciated it. 

Now Dream had both bullets, and H was the target. He gritted his teeth. H could _not_ afford to lose, not when there was so much on the line. His team, his friends. Fwhip had performed wonderfully, killing Techno when H couldn’t. Of course Quig was nuts as always. And Joel, Joel, his friend from 3-G. Joel, whom nobody expected to clutch in Dodgebolt, just won the first 1v3, and he did it against _Dream._

Everybody had done so well. It was up to H to continue their legacy. And so he had to win.

A shot whizzed past him, and H almost had a heart attack. “Nice, nice, you dodged one—“

Then it happened.

Fresh pink paint dribbled down his chest plate, staining H’s aqua jacket like a pale version of blood. The arena was loud, _so loud_ as everybody screamed their lungs out. Everybody was in hysterics. Pink confetti rained down from the sky, covering the aqua splats of paint, covering the scoreboard, covering the Pink Parrots, covering H’s eyes.

H looked up, and smiled.

Then he burrowed his head in his arms and choked out a sob—

and the deed was done.

* * *

_When you get out of bed_

_Don't end up stranded_

_horrified with each stone_

_On the stage_

**_My little dark age_ **

* * *

A chorus of “GGs” rang out, and H knew he said “GG” as well, but he couldn’t register it. His skin was unnaturally hot yet cold. He vaguely realized Joel was hugging all three of them, and H naturally had to reciprocate.

“We did well, dudes.”

“Yeah, we did the best we could.”

The Axolotls nodded, but there was no denying that they were upset and disappointed. Especially after H boldly declared they would win and they had their hopes up.

They congratulated the winners and chatted for a while. As the other three went to wash up, H remained in the Championship arena. He stiffly sat on a bench, away from the screeching masses of Pink stans, his blue eyes still trained on the leaderboard. 

Aqua did so good. Pink Parrots just got the win in the end.

And it was a well deserved win! Burren totally carried Pink in Dodgebolt despite Techno and Dream being well known PvPers. H was happy for Pink. He genuinely was. 

HBomb just failed everybody. 

He had loudly declared himself the villain to the audience’s (and Stan Twitt’s) favourites, only to fail humiliatingly. Everybody was depending on him for an upset— of course his friends and the builder community cheered for him, but even people whom H had never spoken to voiced their support for Aqua.

To make things worse, everybody on his team popped off. Quig, Fwhip, they were totally killing it. Joel was a madman— he was forced into a 1v3 and survived to tell the tale. It was just HBomb who slipped up. HBomb, the leader, carrying the burden of winning in the final duel against Dream. It was HBomb who had disappointed everybody. 

Quite a number of participants were still hanging out in the arena, but all of them were wise not to disturb HBomb. Pink and Aqua had a quick chat after Dodgebolt and they congratulated each other with some smack talk interspersed. Techno had screamed “NOT TODAY, H. NOT AGAIN”, referencing when H defeated Techno last time, but H knew there was no ill will on both sides. Of course there wouldn’t be. H and Quig shared a class with Dream and Techno, and they all respected each other. 

It was just the freaking _audience_ and Stan Twitt.

Boldly proclaiming Pink was always meant to win, and everybody else was irrelevant. H knew he and his team would receive hate if they won, so maybe it was better to be pushed into oblivion instead of tasting victory and paying the unfair price for it. 

H gripped his bench, muscles stiff. His eyeballs were oddly hot and dry. H wouldn’t cry; he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a sore loser. He just—

“Sup, H.”

A familiar calm voice. H turned to see Fruit sit down next to him. Fruit had a small but slightly nervous smile on his face, as if to test the waters. H shifted so Fruit could have more space, and Fruit took it as a sign of welcome. 

“I know you didn’t see me, but I was cheering for you the entire time.”

H scoffed. “Aren’t you Dream and Techno’ sensei?”

“Yeah, but you’re my _friend_ ,” Fruit said as if it explained everything. “And besides, if anything, you guys deserve to win. You _killed_ it at all the team games. I’m calling it— you guys are gonna be seen as the strongest team in all of Championship history.”

H’s lips quirked up. “The strongest team that lost. How ironic.”

_“We deserved that win.” “H, I thought you were going to do it again.”_

The words the Axolotls said floated back into H’s mind. Of course they reassured him it was okay and they were just unlucky. 

“I wanted to win for Joel,” H said abruptly. “All of us have won except for him. He did even better than I had expected but… I couldn’t win for him.”

“It’s alright. Joel’s proven his worth.”

H wrinkled his nose. “I _know_ everyone is going to focus on Burren’s shots and not Joel’s 1v3. No offence to Burren obviously, he did great; it’s just that he’s on Pink and the vocal majority of the audience is very biased.”

Fruit sighed. “True, true.”

H liked talking to Fruit. Fruit was calm, had a softer voice than his, but could be wholly chaotic. But at the same time, he was kind and humble and genuine. Fruit always managed to sound unbiased and honest without being offensive. 

“You know, H, you’re a great team leader.”

“Am I now?”

Fruit laughed. “Yeah! You were going crazy during Dodgebolt. You were cheering but you didn’t forget to give practical advice. I know you were super stressed, but you still did your best to relieve your friends’ stress.”

H stared at his hands. “... I just want them to have a good time. But I am ecstatic that Joel popped off.”

“Yeah, and you kind of enabled it.”

H frowned and twisted his fingers. “No, no, no. Joel did it by himself. We did nothing.”

“You _supported_ him,” Fruit argued. “You constantly hyped him up so he could be confident. Sure, Joel is skilled, but his potential had to be awakened, and you did that, H. You’ve always been good at awakening other people’s potential.”

H didn’t know what to say. His chest felt warm. H knew Fruit was being honest, and he wasn’t saying that to be nice or to comfort him after he lost. “... Well, I think these players have always been good.”

“They are, they just need someone to aggressively shake their shoulders and wake them up.” Fruit was grinning now. “And I think you’re the best at doing that, H.”

H tapped his chin. There _was_ something magical and utterly satisfying about seeing Joel pop off when people didn’t expect him to. And H didn’t even want any credit. He just liked seeing people do good. Even if they weren’t on his team. 

“Well, I came to the Championship to make friends,” H finally said. “Winning’s never my first priority, even though I really want to win. And everyone wanted us to defeat Pink for an upset.”

Fruit shrugged. “Well, who says you can’t upset them in the next one?”

Alright. Maybe H had to let the fan favourites win so he and his future team could have a strong comeback, and when they won, they would become even more of a fan favourite. H was tired of being the villain to the conventional protagonists. He wanted to be the hero of his (and someone else’s) story. 

A smirk spread across H’s face, his usual vigour and energy returning to him. “I like your way of thinking, Fruityloops.”

Fruit stretched his arms and yawned. “Y’know, they’ve been calling the 8th Championship as the one with the legendary rivals teaming up. And they won against their common enemy— _you._ ”

H snorted. “What is this, an anime? Assassination Classroom but unsatisfying? The underdogs, not the established favourites, usually win in anime.”

“Yeah, my point exactly. It’s _boooring_ if those predicted to win actually win. But how about we try to win the next one?”

H raised an eyebrow. “ _We_?”

(H tried to sound nonchalant, but his heart was leaping at the opportunity.)

Excitement glinted in Fruit’s eyes. “We used to be rivals, didn’t we? It was one-sided, because I didn’t see you as one, but still. We can be the “legendary rivals team up”.”

H chuckled. “A bootleg version of Pink Parrots. I like it. Or maybe _they’re_ the bootleg version.”

“That’s it! And we can do what Pink did— find two other so-called “weaker” players and bring them to victory. No one will expect us to win— you lost this Championship, I got 14th last time. We know our worth, they don’t. So there won’t be any pressure!”

H laughed, but turned away. “Thanks for the entertaining idea, Fruit. I like it, I really do. But will Scott allow it? You’re still a S tier, despite your…” H waved his hands vaguely. “Last placement.”

“If he allowed Dream and Techno to be in the same team, why not us?” Fruit said airily. “But you have a point. You’re crazy strong, H. If you won the 8th Championship, there would practically be no chance for me to team up with you. But you lost this one, so Scott would think it’s balanced.”

H drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Interesting. So losing the 8th Championship might be a blessing in disguise. _I like it._ You’re right; we should team up.”

Fruit playfully punched H. “Ohhh yeah. That’s awesome!”

H shifted his body, and allowed a small smile to spread across his face. Now that he had calmed down and talked to Fruit, he felt a lot better. His muscles were more relaxed, and he once again felt hope blossom in his heart. 

Losing the 8th Championship wasn’t the end. In fact, it was just the beginning.

H stood up. “Thanks for the chat, Fruity, I needed it. I’m going to find the rest of the Axolotls.”

“Wait.” Fruit peered up at H. “Which two are we inviting to our team?”

H had his signature grin on his face. 

_“Are you thinking who I’m thinking?”_

(Out of the corner of H’s eye, he saw four yellow-clad figures scurry away, as if hiding from the spotlight.)

* * *

_The feelings start to rot_

_One wink at a time_

* * *

So Pink Parrots won, and the Yellow Yaks did not get an upset as they would’ve liked. They were still bummed about getting ninth, and had done their best to keep their spirits up, but all of them were physically and mentally exhausted. 

They thought it was an exciting Dodgebolt, and stuck around to chat with Fwhip. Unfortunately, the audience members were now allowed to enter the arena, and the arena was swarmed with people. 

They went to congratulate Fwhip and the rest of the Axolotls (H was not there), and the Yaks actually planned to linger longer, but then they started to hear comments directed towards them.

“I love the hermits, so I’m sad they’re always getting ninth!” somebody wailed.

“They used to place sixth or seventh. I think they should team up with people outside of the hermits and 3-G. I suggest that they should split for one time and try other teammates.”

“I know right, that’s what I’m thinking! But Techno plus Dream is too OP, and that’s not fair. Hopefully the hermits can have a comeback!”

“But the important thing is that they have fun!”

The hermit fans nodded, but their conversation was rudely interrupted by a troll.

“They suck because they’re bad at PvP, they suck at fast reaction times, they suck at performance under pressure, and they suck at… I dunno, practicing.”

The fans glared at the troll. “Hey, don’t bring negativity here! Don’t criticize if it’s not constructive!”

Unfortunately, that troll attracted more trolls, and it snowballed from there. 

“Lol you got destroyed,” someone casually stated, but quickly added, “THIS IS A JOKE, YOU DID WELL, JUST STAN PINK PARROTS AND GREEN GUARDIANS DJSJNDISNSJDHEJ—”

“The builders lost.”

“You sucked lol.”

“Don’t know why False is called the Queen of PvP. Queen of Builders maybe, but bottom of the barrel at PvP. They’re all PvP noobs.”

False stiffened. Ren grabbed her arm, and hissed in her ear, “Let’s go. Not worth our attention.”

But the mean shouts continued. The Yaks had had haters before, everyone in MCYT school had those, and they knew better than to listen to them, but it was still very upsetting. The Yellow Yaks’ fans were protesting, but the vocal minority remained, well, vocal.  
“GIT GUD SUCKERS!! Hermitcrafters, you’re bad at this!”

“Wow they even suck at their main game— Build Mart. Aren’t they builders? Lol.”

“They’re a Battle Box losing streak team right here.”

“If you keep on saying you hate this and hate that, just go back to Hermitcraft. Thank God you didn’t team with Dream or Technoblade, you will just make them fall.”

The words stung more than they should, and False blanched. Next to her, Cub looked very pale. Pearl was frowning. False could feel Ren’s grip on her arm instinctively tighten. 

There were only a handful of trolls, but negative comments sadly had a bigger impact than the positive comments. Seeing this, the fans of the Yaks spoke up, using their volume to drown out the problematic minority. 

“They’re just jealous they’re not part of the Yellow Yaks! Yaks for life!”

“Well done guys, you did amazing even if you didn’t win! #NotLast!”

“Yeah, I loved it! You’ll get Top 3 next time!”

“Yass to False’s PvP brain! Woohoo!”

A hint of a smile appeared on False’s face. So people still believed in her. Nice.

“I think Team Hermitcraft is decently good at Survival Games since their strategy really works for them and Rocket Spleef. Sadly these games weren’t chosen. But now they know how Skyblockle works, I think they might be good at it as well. Rooting for you guys as always for the next Championship!”

“Honestly I love the way that you guys play. You didn’t get last place and although I root for all teams, I have grown a liking to the Hermitcraft team. Hermitcraft Represent!”

“Aww, what a really supportive community for really bad Championship players.”

The troll was speaking again, and everyone glared at them. “They’ll win, mark my words,” somebody seethed.

Ren was looking worried. “Guys, let’s go.” He turned to their fans with a smile. “Thanks for the support, really appreciate it.”

Ren wrapped his arms around his friends and ushered them away from the crowd. False swallowed the lump in her throat. The insecurity she’d been wrestling with returned full force. How awful was it that mere words had such an impact on the morale they had been precariously building up. 

“They’re rude,” False blurted out before she could think. “So rude.”

Cub nodded. “True! Like man, we’re just… existing.”

“They’re annoying. Who do they think they are?” Pearl muttered. “Try participating in the Championship yourselves then. _Screw you._ ”

Pearl’s intensity made them all laugh a little, but the laughter swiftly died down. They had to face the harsh reality that they had gotten ninth three times in a row. 

“It’s all good, guys!” Ren somehow managed to have a genuine smile on his face. “We’ve got our own fans, and those haters of ours are immature kiddos who have their heads stuck in their own butts! Like, we have these amazing uniforms and fanart. They appreciate us. We appreciate each other.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

The Yaks hugged each other one final time. They agreed to meet up for dinner to chat, but now they all needed a shower and some rest. Ren and Cub opted to go to the 3-H classroom to wash up like they always did, but False wanted some alone time, so she excused herself and went home. 

The way home was… weird, because False usually had multiple friends with her. At the very least, she had her neighbour Ren. But now it suited False, because she was so tired she didn’t want to speak. 

She entered her house and threw her dirty team jacket into the laundry basket. False winced at the large bruise on her arm; it seemed to be getting worse. She stepped into the shower and let the water wash away the sweat and blood. Maybe it could wash away the negative thoughts too.

False sighed and rested her head on the cool wall. She really was pathetic, wasn’t she? She was supposed to be good at PvP. She’d saved her friends multiple times from people fighting them. She knew she shouldn’t let those silly haters affect her, but she was human after all, and the words _hurt._

She methodically dried her hair, making sure not to move her left arm too much since it was hurt. She was still thinking about the Championship and her failure and the disappointment and the pain when—

Her phone vibrated.

 **Ren:** Meeting up in 30 mins? :D

* * *

_And the engine's failed again_

_All limits of disguise_

_The humor's not the same_

_Coming from denial_

* * *

The dinner was a mostly quiet affair as Pearl had expected. The Yaks made small talk— Cub said he was going to sleep over at Scar’s, they asked each other about their injuries, Ren pronounced “lasagne” in a weird way.

Silence fell over the quartet when they realized they ran out of lighthearted things to say. Pearl remembered their last dinner before the 8th Championship, which was a mere twenty four hours ago, she realized with a laugh. It felt like an eternity since then. Back then, they had oh-so-hopefully, oh-so-boldly declared they would get seventh. Someone (was it False?) had even said the four of them would get into Dodgebolt one day. How far were they from their dream?

Now with battered bodies and bruised egos, it was painful to think about their hopeful promise. So no one mentioned it.

Pearl noticed that even Ren, who was the most vocal about his support, was quiet. Ren moodily picked at his food, while False was busy fiddling with the ice pack on her left arm. Cub just stared at his glass of water. Pearl gulped. 

They had been demoralized from the very beginning, when they were predicted to get ninth, but they’d supported each other. They faced the lows of Battle Box and Build Mart and tried to conquer their insecurities. Alas, they still got ninth. Pearl still got 33rd despite her best efforts. Not to mention their haters were enjoying their failure. For so long, all four of them struggled to remain optimistic. Ren in particular always had a nice word to say about anyone and anything. Ren had that special ability to make objectively bad situations sound positive. When Ren said they were placing low to give the others a head start, Pearl chimed in and said they were giving them a handicap. All four of them tried, but Ren tried the most, and everybody knew. 

But they were utterly exhausted now, having spoken every encouragement they could think of, having thought of every way their predicament could be seen as helpful. So everybody was silent.

As unavoidable the silence was, it was also unbearable. 

So they decided to call it a day and rest early. There was nothing else they could do. They mumbled their goodbyes and split up— the hermits going in one direction (Pearl knew they lived close to each other) and Pearl in another. 

As Pearl briskly walked home, she found many thoughts occupying her brain, many thoughts that hadn’t appeared when she was with the three hermits. Pearl knew she was the odd one out— she was always the odd one out, even though the hermits were perfectly friendly and welcoming. In fact, Pearl was one of the rare few who were considered an “honorary hermit” by the hermits. But there was no hiding that circumstance-wise, she was different.

For starters, Pearl was not in 3-H. Sure, many mistook her as a member of 3-H, but she was part of the main campus. She wasn’t isolated like the hermits (although all four of them were looked down).

And secondly, out of the four, Pearl was the only one who had actually practiced. The three hermits often said they would do better next time because they would practice, but Pearl, who practiced every day, did not get a better rank. In fact, she even dropped a few ranks, from 28th to 31st to 33rd. She knew her skills had improved, it just wasn’t significant compared to the progress everyone had. 

The hermits did not try, and they got an unsatisfactory rank.

Pearl tried, she _tried_ so hard, and still she got an unsatisfactory rank.

At least the hermits had hope. Pearl had disappointment and frustration. 

That was why the hermits didn’t really mention practice during dinner, since they didn’t want to rub salt in the wound. But the hermits did say they wanted someone to teach them, and Pearl seemed to be their favourite choice. Except Pearl wasn’t even _good_ at parkour.

Of course Pearl could not say that to the hermits— after all, she was the outsider. She put in a lot more effort in the 8th Championship than they did. She received regular training from the main campus teachers while the 3-Hermitcrafters could only rely on Scott and their friends. And as the hermits’ friend, Pearl would be more than delighted to help them. 

She just wasn’t good enough.

She’d practiced, but she was still on the same level of those who had not practiced. 

And _definitely_ not on the level of her 3-G peers who even _got into Dodgebolt._

Pearl sighed and rubbed her arms self-consciously. The streetlamps cast a solitary shadow, and Pearl felt oddly ostracized even though she just had dinner with friends. 

Pearl inhaled. No, she wouldn’t be stupid. She was Pearlescentmoon, a builder, a crafter, and _not_ a quitter. Her hands balled up into shaky fists. 

Yes, she failed in the 8th Championship. _No_ , she wasn’t giving up.

Maybe she needed to practice more. Maybe she needed to practice more efficiently. Pearl would find out why her practices didn’t work like she thought they would.

But for now, Pearl allowed herself to be upset. She allowed herself to forget about her worries and insecurities. 

But there was one thing Pearl was sure of. 

She would return for the 9th Championship, and she would return stronger than ever. 

* * *

_I grieve in stereo_

_The stereo sounds strange_

_I know that if you hide_

_It doesn't go away_

* * *

Cub said bye to False and Ren and approached Scar’s house. As tired as he was after the 8th Championship and dinner with the Yaks, he was never too tired to not appreciate Scar’s beautiful creations.

Scar’s place was a charming brick house with a prismarine roof. It was covered with vines, ivy, different flowers, and the house was practically buried by the numerous trees in Scar’s back and front yards. It looked like it came straight out of a fairy tale (and Scar probably took inspiration from that, considering his love for Disney). The yard was jam-packed with items like a BBQ grill, a tent (and Jellie’s special turquoise-pink-white tent), a hammock, and even a treehouse that Scar and Cub built together and used for stargazing. A greenhouse filled with exotic plants was tucked in the corner, a man-made waterfall next to it. The hermits always had a Good Time at GoodTimesWithScar’s place (Mumbo cried when he saw Scar’s cute little mushrooms). Every hermit could craft and build, but not a lot of them could _breathe_ life into their creations like Scar did. Now that it was dark, lanterns lit up the yard (the yard was at least twice the size of the actual house). A soft golden glow emitted from the glass windows. 

Scar went out to open the gate for Cub. They made small talk as they walked down the cobblestone path to the house. Cub had slept at Scar’s place so many times he had his own pair of slippers, his toothbrush and his mug. 

“Sooo… what do you wanna do tonight?” Scar asked with a warm smile.

“I’m tired… maybe I’ll just sit down.”

The inside of Scar’s house was just as pretty as the exterior, except it was way messier. Chestmonsters littered the floor, while sets of Legos and Jellie plushies lined the shelves. Cub sat on Scar’s couch as Scar went into the kitchen to make hot chocolate. Cub sighed and hugged his knees to his chest. He felt his back ache, probably from when he was knocked to the ground during Battle Box. 

As if sensing his distress, Jellie walked over and sat on Cub’s lap. She purred, and Cub petted her head. Cub couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face. Spending time with his best friend and his cat was very relaxing and healing.

Scar returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and Cub gratefully smiled. They sat next to each other on the couch, Scar fiddling with his multicoloured “magic crystals” on the coffee table. There was a comfortable silence between them, but Cub didn’t want it to be silent. 

Cub exhaled, and started to speak. “Truth be told, I’m not feeling so good after the Championship.”

Scar slowly set down his mug. Scar had never been in the Championship, in fact, he rarely was in competitive events, so he couldn’t fully understand Cub, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“Want to talk about it?”

“... I feel like I let everyone down,” Cub confessed, his voice heavy. “I got the worst rank, I’m not good at movement or PvP, and I… I even suggested a strategy that backfired. I know it’s not wholly my fault, but I feel like it is.”

Scar soothingly rubbed Cub’s back. “Yeah, sometimes your silly emotions make you believe in things that aren’t true. It’s okay, Cub. I know you did your best, and that’s enough. I know your teammates, the Yellow Yaks, feel the same way.”

Cub didn’t reply. He was too tired to do so. So he rested his head on Scar’s shoulder and two sat there for a while. Jellie meowed at Cub, sounding a little concerned. Cub quietly chuckled and scratched under Jellie’s chin. 

“I’m alright, Jellie, just need some time to process it and get over it.”

The cheerful and optimistic Scar always did wonders at lifting others’ spirits. Being in a place Scar designed, seeing his cat, or even drinking Scar’s MooPop, they all reminded Cub of Scar. It was like Scar’s sweet and sunny personality permeated everything he touched, making his creations overflow with Scar-ness. And just being by Scar’s side made Cub feel a lot better.

“... What do you want me to do?”

Cub looked up to see Scar’s forest green eyes, twinkling and filled with warmth. Sure, Scar cared, he cared a lot, but he also didn’t want to overwhelm Cub when he was visibly tired. 

Cub thought of all the fun things he could do with Scar- work on the Aque Town lego set, rewatch the launch of a rocket, gaze at the stars, play with Jellie-

And Cub made up his mind.

“Just stay here.”

And so they sat, side by side, enjoying each other’s companionship, quietly sipping their hot chocolate, until Cub’s eyelids inevitably started to droop.

* * *

_If you get out of bed_

_And find me standing all alone_

_Open-eyed_

_Burn the page_

_My little dark age_

* * *

During the dinner with the Yaks, Ren was silent, probably having run out of jokes to make. Could False blame him? He was always the one who made them feel better. He somehow managed to stay positive despite all three of his friends being in despair. It must be really tough for him.

The three hermits said bye to Pearl, then False and Ren said bye to Cub. Soon they would reach their neighbourhood and say bye to each other. False exhaled.

The road home was quiet, the only sound being their footsteps and the chirping of crickets. False’s left arm continued to throb, the pain even more noticeable in the silence. 

… False had always been thankful for Ren, but she hadn’t realised how important his presence was until he stopped talking. Maybe she’d taken him for granted— she was probably closest to Ren and Cub out of the Kingdomcrafters, not to mention they went to school together every day. Plus Ren had loyally been with her in every Championship. 

They had reached the tree in front of their houses. The tree they met at every morning. False gulped. Ren, who was walking in front of her, cleared his throat. 

“Well, I guess this is it. See you soon.” 

.

.

.

It would be easy. It would be easy for her to say two words— a simple “ _see ya_ ” and she could go home and sleep and forget about everything. It should’ve been easy. 

But it wasn’t. Because getting ninth for the third time in a row _sucked,_ and False wanted to scream. But it was Ren who made it bearable, with his silly jokes and comforting smiles and reassuring words. It was Ren who tried non-stop to cheer them up for practically the entire day. Maybe she was just used to him, but it felt… wrong and hollow and strange and empty when he quieted down. And without his words to preoccupy her, her thoughts did, scolding her for letting everyone down, and convincing her winning was hopeless and she should just stop participating to save herself from misery. 

And False thought of going home, tucking herself in her bed, staring at the ceiling, with nothing and no one to distract her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep as her thoughts would keep her up all night, and it was— it was unbearable. Stewing in her anguish, spiralling into a pit of despair, clumsily attempting to keep her emotions under lock and key only to fail. 

Sometimes being alone _sucked._

And it wasn’t just her. They were all suffering. Ren, especially. How bad he must’ve felt seeing his friends so miserable, yet knowing he must be cheerful for their sake? He was mentally exhausted too, wasn’t he? And while she knew they didn’t like to bother anyone, this time, it was too much to keep it in. They couldn’t pretend it was fine and move on. It was too much, too much, too much—

Too much for them to bear on their own.

.

.

.

And False couldn’t take it anymore.

Normally False would’ve felt awkward, or guilty, or something. But today she was just tired. Oh-so-very-tired. Too tired to give a damn about anything else. She was sure if she let herself, she would just collapse on the ground. 

She took a step forward, then one more. 

“Hmm?” Ren sounded confused, yet his tone was kind.

In a rare act of vulnerability, False lowered her head—

and uttered one single word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This was almost 8k words long. At least we're done with the MCC8 arc, now we can move on to the post-MCC8 stuff :D
> 
> Lyrics from Little Dark Age by MGMT. I'm obsessed with Frostbyte's Blue Bats playlist. 
> 
> Sorry for the angst haha. We finally get the Hangst... D: 
> 
> MCC8 Pink vaguely reminds me of MCC9 Blue because of the "seemingly OP rivals team up + best friends duo" and they're the teams with the most animatics lol (who could blame them?). 
> 
> I really struggled with coming up with Scar's house, because his style is so diverse I don't know what to focus on. I ended up being inspired by his magical village (my fav Scar build). Scar's creations always make me happy :D
> 
> Thanks for reading! I appreciate your comments <3


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